Moonlit Mirrors
by Keitorin Asthore
Summary: Things are different now. Sirius is gone. Cho ditched him. He seems more alone than he ever was before. But a crazy DADA teacher, two ghostly figures, and a girl with radishes in her ears are going to change all that.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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There were many things that Harry would have preferred to be doing. Like playing Quidditch, for instance, or sitting around the Gryffindor house table with Ron and Hermione. But at this point, he would have preferred to be in Potions class with Snape lambasting him than to be where he was.

Right now he was in the waiting room of the Snettering hospital, forced to wait with his purple Uncle Vernon and horsey Aunt Petunia for the doctor to tell them Dudley's status. Harry didn't care too much. "Big D" had decided to pick on a little boy who had four older brothers. They hadn't been too pleased.

"I'm going to walk around," Harry said. His relatives didn't respond. Harry sighed and meandered down the hall. It was quite different from the organized chaos of Saint Mungo's. Everything was hushed and orderly, with a small measure of sadness. People died here, he realized. Death was not something he wanted to think about at the moment. He wandered down the halls, a skinny, lonely boy with dark hair that hung over his bruised green eyes.

"Now, really, Miss Lovegood, this is the second time this month you've come in."

Harry started. His glasses slipped down his nose in surprise.

"You ought to be more careful. How did it happen this time, Miss Lovegood?"

He waited to hear the answer. Maybe it was…

"I fell down the stairs," a soft girl's voice said.

It was Luna.

Harry peeked around the corner. Luna Lovegood was sitting on the chair letting a nurse bandage her wrist. Nasty black bruises peppered her white skin. Luna looked different, not her usual airy dreamweaver look. Her blonde hair was drawn back in a tight braid, and she was wearing ugly, shapeless Muggle clothes. A bandaid was on her right cheek, covering the remains of what looked like a bad laceration. "I really shouldn't be so clumsy," Luna said dreamily.

"No, you most certainly should not!" the nurse said emphatically. "Now you may go. And I don't want to see you here again, understand?" Luna nodded. Harry finally realized why she seemed so different. She was subdued. No butterbeer cork necklace, no wand tucked behind her ear, no roaring lion hat.

Luna slipped off the chair and headed down the hallway, her head down. And she rammed straight into Harry. "Oh, I'm sorry-" she mumbled.

"Luna, what are you doing here?" he said.

Her blonde head shot up. "_Oh_," she exclaimed. "Harry…I…" Luna bolted.

"Wait, Luna-" He reached for her, and accidentally grabbed her sore right wrist. Luna cried out. "Oh, Luna, I'm sorry," Harry apologized.

"It's all right," she said, sounding more like her dreamy-eyed normal self. Harry relaxed. "I just fell down the stairs and got banged up a bit."

"I really am sorry," he said. "D'you want me to take you home?"

Luna started to walk down the hallway, which Harry belatedly realized was a yes. He ran after her. "Don't worry. I live close by," she said.

"I thought you and your father were going to Sweden for the summer," he said. "To look for…for Crankle-Head Snerts."

"Crumple-horned Snorkacks," Luna corrected gravely.

"Well, why didn't you go?" Harry asked.

"Daddy had other things to do," Luna said simply. "He is the editor of the Quibbler, you know." She walked beside Harry, trying to match his strides. "So why were you at the hospital? You're not sick, are you?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine," he said. "It was my cousin. Dudley. He's a Muggle."

"I don't have any Muggle cousins," Luna said. "I don't have any cousins."

"It's just you and your dad, then?"

She nodded as she walked up the untidy pathway to a crazy looking brick house. "This is where Daddy lives," she said. After a moment she added "And me too, in the summer holidays." Luna paused at the door.

"Well…" Harry stammered.

"Thank you for walking me home," Luna said.

"You're welcome," Harry said. "I'll, eh…I guess I'll see you at Hogwarts when term starts up again."

"Yes," Luna said. She smiled at him. Harry stared at her, openmouthed. Luna was actually pretty when she smiled. But before he could say anything else, she vanished into her house and closed the door behind her.

He didn't see Luna again for three weeks. In the meantime, his existence was rather dull. He wandered around the empty house. He wandered through Diagon Alley getting school supplies. He wandered around Little Whinging. There was nothing to hold his attention. There was nothing to distract him from the memories. There was nothing to dull the pain.

He still had the dreams at night. Now they were even stranger. Fragments of visions tortured him at night, keeping him trapped in nightmares that he could not awake from. He saw his mother, his father, Cedric, Sirius. Everyone.

The night before he left for Hogwarts, the vision was stronger than ever. He was in the graveyard again, but this time it was Sirius's body, not Cedric's, that lay cold and motionless on the ground. Harry was powerless. No sound could escape from him. His scar was throbbing so badly he could barely breathe. He was a frozen prisoner.

It was inevitable. He was going to die. There was nothing he could do. He could feel life slipping away, and it was a terrible thing, even in a dream.

And then something soft and warm touched his cheek. "It's all right," a voice whispered. "You'll be all right." The soft warm touch crept around his hands and held them tightly.

"You're safe," another voice said. "Just hold on to us."

Harry bolted upright, in his bedroom at the Dursley house, with no pain in his scar and a gentle touch still lingering on his fingers.

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I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	2. Dream a Dream

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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"Harry! Harry! Ron, look, it's Harry!" Harry grinned as Hermione hurtled down the platform to greet him. "Oh, Harry, I'm so glad to see you!" she exclaimed. She grabbed him in a tight hug. "How have you been? Are you all right? Have you-"

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry grinned.

Ron popped up from behind Hermione. "Good to see you, mate," he said. He looked taller than ever. "Anything interesting happen this summer?"

"Dudley managed to get himself beat up," Harry said, smirking wickedly.

"How on earth did that happen?" Hermione asked.

"Beat up a kid who had older brothers. The older brothers found out and, well…you get the idea," Harry explained.

Ron snickered, and then stopped abruptly. "Ginny, what's wrong with you?" he asked, exasperated. His younger sister was tugging sharply on his sleeve.

"Over there," she said in a low voice. "Malfoy. He's picking on Luna and he's getting vicious."

"Hold it, Gin, we can't just-" He paused. "Harry?"

Malfoy had jinxed the younger girl so that every time she took a step, her long hair would yank her violently in the opposite direction. Luna was completely expressionless, but pale. She stepped slightly to the right, but suddenly fell sharply to the left, falling into Harry.

"So, Malfoy, you've been reduced to picking on helpless girls now," Harry said. Luna was shaking badly; he put an arm around her shoulders to steady her. "Take the jinx off of her."

Malfoy pulled a face. "Aw, looks like Potty had to come rescue his ickle biddy Loonykins, didn't he?" he said. "How absolutely-"

"Remove Luna's jinx, Malfoy."

There was a commanding tone in Harry's voice that he was quite sure had never been there before. But whatever it was, it worked. Malfoy gave a sulky wave of his wand, and Luna relaxed. He skulked off, taking his goons with him.

"You all right, Luna?" Harry asked.

"Yes, thanks," she said, quiet and dreamy. She started to float off into the crowd.

"Luna, stay with us," he said. She turned and eyed him with a slightly inquisitive gaze. "In case Malfoy tries to jinx you again," he clarified. _Please let her smile again, please let her smile again…_

"Thank you," Luna said. And a tiny smile turned up her lips.

"Are you all right, Luna?" Ginny asked. The smile turned back into the usual dreamy look as the blonde nodded. Harry followed the two of them onto the train. He didn't know it, but Hermione and Ron were exchanging knowing glances behind his back.

The train ride to Hogwarts seemed longer than usual. Harry found his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Ginny, Neville, and Luna were engaged in a deep conversation about some sort of creature that Luna was just positive was living in Cornwall. He felt warm and drowsy as the voices lulled him into sleep.

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"Hurry up, Potter!" Dudley shouted, giving his smaller cousin a kick in the ankle. "I don't got all day!"

The five year old stumbled, his glasses slipping. The rain pelted him unmercifully, soaking through the thin, oversized jacket. Harry sighed. His head was aching horribly. He just wanted to go into his little closet and sleep for hours. Maybe then he would feel better…

Dudley kicked him again, this time in the back of the knee. Harry fell face first onto the muddy sidewalk, scraping the palms of his hands. "Dudley, quit it!" he wailed.

"And what will you do if I don't?" the fat boy taunted. "Tell your mummy? Oh, wait, you can't, 'cause your mummy's dead!" He kicked Harry square in the chest and darted off- which wasn't very fast, considering his rather large girth.

Harry fought the tears burning behind his eyes. _Can't cry…Daddy would be ashamed of me if I cried…_But he was only five years old. He lay there on the cold wet sidewalk, fighting the tears and the headache and the burning pain in his tiny body. But no father was going to come and swoop him up into strong loving arms, no mother was going to dry his tears and sing him to sleep. Harry pushed himself up and pushed himself down the street to Number Four.

Next door, a Squib was throwing powder into the fire. "Albus," Arabella said. "It's the little Potter boy. He's not well. And those Muggles will just let him die."

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"Harry, wake up."

He blinked, hazy and disoriented.

"Harry, we're at Hogwarts." Luna was studying him carefully.

"Oh," he said. "Oh. All right." He gathered his things together, the story-dream fresh in his mind.

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For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	3. Dazed

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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"I wonder who'll be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year…" Hermione wondered. "The position seems to be cursed."

"I don't care who they picked, just let 'em announce it so I can eat!" Ron moaned. "I'm starving!" Harry laughed.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts!" Dumbledore boomed suddenly. The great hall fell silent. "After the events of the previous year, I am sure you are all ready for a regular school term, but I daresay nothing is ever regular at Hogwarts." He winked at Harry, who grinned back. It was good to have Dumbledore back. "I would like to introduce you to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor…or rather, professors." A tiny girl with tawny-red hair stood up, beaming. She looked no older than nineteen. "This is Emmalina Schmeadling-Holland." The girl rolled her eyes and whispered something in Dumbledore's ear. "Ah, I see. _Emelye_ Schmeadling-Holland. She, along with her husband Leverett, will be teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class." There was a smattering of polite applause. Emelye smiled again and sat down next to a young man with dark hair, apparently Leverett. "And now, the feast!"

"Finally!" Ron exclaimed.

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It was nearly an hour later when Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way up to the Gryffindor dorms. "I'm so full…I'm going to ruddy_burst _in a moment!" Ron moaned.

Hermione thumped him on the arm. "Well, with the way you eat, I'm not surprised," she retorted. "Applebaum." The Fat Lady's portrait swung open. "Honestly, Ron if you're not careful…"

Harry lost track of the conversation. A quick motion caught his eye. He looked over and saw a girl. She was dressed in a long silver cloak, with the hood shielding her face. The slender figure darted a swift glance at him, but all he could see of her was the soft curve of her cheek and her long eyelashes. He blinked, and she was gone.

"Har-ry," Hermione snapped. "Hurry up. The portrait's not going to stay open all night."

"Oh. Right," he said, and he stepped inside.

The girl ran swiftly down the stone hallway.

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The Gryffindor sixth-years milled about in the DADA classroom, waiting for Professor Schmeadling-Holland to show up. She had three minutes before class started.

"Harry, are you feeling all right?" Hermione asked.

He looked up. "I feel fine. Why do you ask?"

"You've been so quiet lately," she said. Her brown eyes were concerned. "Are you still thinking about-"

Harry was saved by a tiny figure in brilliant blue robes dashing into the room. "All right! I'm here, everyone!" Professor Schmeadling-Holland chirped. Her tawny hair was held by a ribbon in a half-back style that allowed her long locks bounce everywhere. "This castle is so big…it's a miracle I found my way here…" She beamed as she gazed around the class, until her eyes fell on Harry. He subconsciously flinched, waiting for the look of the recognition and the familiar swish of the eyes up to his scar. But Professor Schmeadling-Holland only smiled at him. He began to relax.

She perched on top of her desk, letting her short legs swing back and forth. "And before I start anything, I'd like you all to _please_call me Emelye. Emmalina is a horrid name and Professor Schmeadling-Holland makes me sound _so _old."

Hermione was beginning to look exasperated with the flighty girl. She raised her hand and Emelye nodded to her. "I don't mean to be rude, but…what credentials do you have to teach this class?" she inquired.

"If that's not rude, I don't know what is," Ron whispered to Harry.

Emelye slid off the desk. "Well, Miss…"

"Granger. Hermione Granger."

"Well, Miss Granger, I suppose you're right to ask that question," Emelye sighed. "I am rather new at this teaching thing, but…if you doubt my experience with the Dark Arts, you are mistaken." She moved part of her robes aside, revealing a scabbard buckled around her waist. She unsheathed the sword. "Can anyone identify this?"

Hermione raised her hand, eyes wide. "It's an elf-sword," she said.

"Precisely," Emelye said.

"But those can only be used by people who are-"

"Elves?" the tiny teacher said, eyes sparkling. "Exactly, Miss Granger."

"Does that mean you're a-" Ron breathed.

"Believe whatever you like, Mr.-"

"Ron Weasley."

"I can only tell you that this is Clashclang," Emelye said, stroking her fingers lovingly along the flat of the scuffed blade. "He's a bit battered, but we've gone through a great deal together." She slid the sword back into the scabbard. "And now, if someone can tell me what you've learned previously in this class…"

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The students poured out of the classroom at the end of the lesson. "Well, that was certainly a surprise," Hermione said. "I barely expected her to know which end of the wand was up, but she's quite clever." She checked her watch. "Oh, I'll have to run. I can't be late for Arithmacy!"

"And I've got Muggle Studies," Ron said. He rolled his eyes. "Dad's making me take it, it's going to be such a bore…what about you, Harry?"

"Divination," he said dully. "I cannot believe it."

Hermione and Ron both winced in sympathy. "Sorry about that," Ron said. "We've got lunch next, though, we'll catch up to you then!" The two of them hurried off, leaving Harry to wander up to the tower alone. Now that Trelawney had been reinstated, it was sure to be just as boring as usual.

He was halfway there when he saw a boy sitting alone under a portrait. He was dressed in Hogwarts robes, with a shiny prefect's badge pinned to his front. His hair was red and looked sloppy. Harry blinked. _Percy?_ he thought. But no, Percy graduated several years ago, and this boy's hair was a darker red. Besides, he looked shorter and thinner than Percy.

"Are you all right?" Harry ventured.

The boy gave him a sideways glance, got up with a lazy stretch, and sauntered down the hallway.

"Hey! I was talking to you!" Harry called.

The boy continued to lope down the hallway, and vanished.

Harry stood there for a while, until he realized he was going to be incredibly late for divinations.

He managed to sneak his way into the room without Trelawney noticing, but then he saw with a sinking heart that it was Double Divination. All the seats were filled- except for one in the corner, where a slender blonde was idly playing with a necklace of butterbeer corks. Harry edged his way over.

"Luna, can I sit with you?" he whispered. She nodded.

"Ah, welcome, welcome, my children," Trelawney the airy-fairy intoned. "I am happy to see you all returned to this place safe, as my inner-eye predicted…" Harry tuned her out. He was in no mood for prophecies and predictions. He turned to Luna instead.

"Why are you in a sixth-year class?" he whispered.

"I've been moved ahead in a few of my classes," she whispered back. "They thought I wasn't being challenged enough."

"What-"

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry started. The bug-eyed glasses were staring at him.

"Mr. Potter, share with us your most recent dream," Trelawney said.

He swallowed hard. "I dreamed I was in London, and I rode on one of those red buses," he fibbed.

Trelawney looked a bit disappointed. "Ah, I see what that means," she finally said. "Someday, our own Harry Potter will die, after being struck by a double-decker bus. The inner eye advises you avoid London." The goggle-eyed professor glided off to another student.

"Liar, liar," Luna singsonged quietly.

Harry glanced at her sharply. "What do you-"

She placed a cool hand on his arm. "Don't get so testy," she said. "I don't know what you were dreaming. I just know that it had nothing to do with buses." The gentle hand stayed on Harry's arm, and he knew she was remembering the veil in the Department of Mysteries.

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For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	4. Dismal

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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Albus found the young woman easily enough. Allicot was in the nursery, rocking her daughter in her arms. "Hello, Professor," she smiled, showing no surprise at the Hogwarts headmaster's head suddenly popping up in the fire. "What can I do for you?"

"It's Harry Potter," Dumbledore said.

Allicot shifted her sleeping daughter. "What's wrong? Is he all right?" she asked.

"He's very sick. We need to get him to a healer as soon as possible." Dumbledore's voice was grave.

"Oh, Professor, I can't," Allicot said softly. "Send him to St. Mungo's."

"Too public. It wouldn't be safe. He should go to you, Allicot. You're a member of the Order."

"You forget. I left when the little one was born," she said.

"Once a member, always a member," Albus reminded her. "You are the only Healer in the Order." He smiled sadly. "Besides, this is Lily's child."

Allicot closed her eyes, trying not think of the laughing red-headed girl who had so desperately wanted a child. "I'll do it," she said.

"I'm sending one of the Hogwarts teachers along to keep an eye on things. Severus Snape, I'm sure you remember him." Allicot tried not to pull a face. "Go straight to Arabella Figg's house."

Allicot put her young daughter in her snug little bed, told her husband what was happening, and gathered her Healer's kit together. Then she tossed the Floo powder into the fire.

"…and this is Nicky, my newest cat…" Mrs. Figg was saying to a very uncomfortable-looking Severus Snape. She seemed disappointed for her trapped listener to leave.

Snape was quite disgruntled over the entire situation. _I'm not going to coddle that Potter child_ was the only thought running through his head. Hopefully it wouldn't be too long. Get the spoiled brat, shove some potions down his throat, and let Allicot do the rest.

Allicot held the hem of her soft lavender robes out of the puddles on the stoop as she rang the doorbell. The fattest, pinkest, ugliest child imaginable answered the door. Severus nearly vomited at the sight._This is the child of James and Lily Potter?_

"Is your mother here?" Allicot asked pleasantly.

The fat child eyed Allicot and suddenly yelled "MUMMY! THERE'S TWO WEIRDOES AT THE DOOR!"

"Charming child," Allicot mumbled. Snape fingered his wand, but Allicot elbowed him.

A bony woman hurried to the door. "What is it, Duddykins?" She paled at the sight of the two strangers at her door.

"We'd like to see Harry," Allicot said.

The woman stared at them.

"Can we at least get inside?" Allicot asked, beginning to lose her patience.

The woman finally nodded, and the two stepped inside the Muggle house. It was clean to the point of pain. Pictures of the fat child were everywhere, giving Snape the creeps. But there was a strange feeling in the house. Something wasn't quite right.

Maybe it was the muffled cries coming from the second floor.

"Dudley-poo, run tell your father we've got guests," the horsey woman said, giving her fat offspring a push. The child waddled up the stairs. "Please, come in."

The sitting room held even more pictures of the pudgy Dudley. Allicot sat on the edge of the sofa, eyeing the situation warily. "So, why did you come here again?" the woman asked stiffly.

"We're here to see Harry," Allicot repeated. "You know, your nephew Harry? Lily's little boy?"

The woman pressed her thin lips together as if she'd decided against speaking, but a sharp clatter on the stairs forced a "Yes, of course I know who Harry is, he lives here," in a strained, overly loud tone. But Allicot had grown up as the youngest child in a large household; she was an expert at listening to other people's conversations.

"You're not going to make any more trouble at school are you?"

"No, Uncle Vernon."

"You're not going to try to show up Dudley in classes any more, are you?"

"No, Uncle Vernon."

"And you know what will happen to you if you do it again, don't you?"

The child didn't answer.

Then there was a hard slap, a sobbing gasp, and then "Yes, Uncle Vernon."

"Finally you understand. You're even more stupid than your ugly mother was."

There was a loud slamming sound, and a huge man with virtually no neck stormed into the room. He looked from delicate Allicot to the foreboding Snape, and glowered.

"What are you gits doing in my house?" he demanded.

Snape decided this would be a good time to speak. "We've come to inquire about the welfare of young Harry Potter," he said. The cold icy voice that frightened many a first-year was just as effective on Vernon Dursley. The man turned the same shade of lavender as Allicot's robes.

"Please, we'd like to see him," Allicot said.

The man and the woman exchanged frightened glances.

"Or we can simply use force to find him," Severus said coolly.

"He-he's in there," the woman stammered, pointing to the stairs. "In the cupboard."

Allicot leaped up from the sofa. A soft, hoarse sobbing could be heard through the grate on the door. She lifted the lock and looked inside. Her face was white with anxiety and restrained anger. Severus rolled his eyes, but followed her gaze.

What he saw nearly destroyed the hatred he'd been nursing for the past years against the Potter child. Little Harry was curled up in a tight ball, sobbing brokenly. His glasses were shattered, and a dark bruise discolored his cheek. Apparently he hadn't been raised like a spoiled little prince as the Boy Who Lived. He barely looked alive.

Allicot's motherly nature took over. "Harry," she whispered. The little boy's head jerked up. "Harry, come here." The child turned to look at the two of them, panicked.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry…"

"There's nothing to be sorry for, pet," Allicot reassured him. "You've done nothing wrong." Harry hiccupped. Allicot held out her arms. "We've come to take care of you. You can trust us." The five-year-old studied Allicot's face with a wariness too old for his young age, but finally he pushed himself off the floor and stumbled towards her. He began to cry again, even though her touch was gentle. "Oh, Merlin," Severus heard her whisper. "Oh, I hope Lily isn't watching." She straightened, carefully cradling the dying child in her arms. "Severus, take him for a moment. I'll get his things together."

Before he had a chance to protest, Harry was placed in his arms. Snape looked down at him. The little boy was limp and weak from fever. His tiny body shuddered with every wispy breath he tried to take. Harry's eyelashes flickered and finally opened, revealing the gorgeous green eyes that Lily Evans had been famous for. Severus couldn't look at the child. Lily had been a laughing girl, a joyful girl, whose eyes had always reflected her inner spirit. Now those eyes were dull and lifeless, without Lily's lively spark. A faint twinge of pity went through Snape's icy soul. James Potter may have been a selfish prat, but Lily had been a wonderful woman. Any child of her blood didn't deserve to suffer like this.

"Here, I'll take him," Allicot said, reaching for the sick boy.

"Can I have my blanket, please?" Harry murmured. "I'm cold."

"Where is it?" she asked. He pointed to a heap of fabric in the closet, and Allicot picked it up. She recognized it instantly. Lily's cloak. Her emerald green cloak, the one that James bought for her as a Christmas gift when they were seventh-years. Allicot smiled as she tucked it around Lily's son. "All right, little one," she whispered in his ear. "Go to sleep. I'll take good care of you." Harry nestled against her.

"Where are you taking him?" Petunia Dursley finally managed to stutter.

Allicot smiled, but showed all of her teeth. "I'm a Healer, and I was sent to take care of your nephew. So he doesn't die, you understand. If he died, many people would be quite displeased," she said sweetly. She swept passed the astonished Dursleys. Snape followed her and glowered at them. Petunia whimpered.

"Those stupid, stupid Muggles," Allicot muttered. She smoothed a lock of hair away from the sleeping child's forehead. "Treating the poor laddie like that, and him barely out of nappies." She kissed Harry softly.

"I suppose you don't need me any longer," Snape said stiffly. "Contact me if you need any potions." Allicot nodded. They reached Arabella Figg's house, and Allicot took the child home with her.

-----

"Oi, Harry, you've overslept!" Ron bounced on his bed. "Wake up, mate!"

Harry groaned and shoved his face into his pillow. "I had the strangest dream…" he mumbled.

The redhead stopped bouncing so boisterously. "Not another one of…of the _visions_?" Ron asked.

He rubbed his eyes. "No, no, just…just a weird dream." Harry got up, trying to think of why the name Allicot seemed so very, very familiar.

It took him forever to feel awake enough to get down the great hall. He felt groggy, as if he really had been sick, and not just in a bizarre dream where he was a five year old living in such horrible conditions that even Severus Snape pitied him. It was a bit disconcerting. And demeaning, too, while he was at it.

It was on his way to the hall that he saw the girl again. She was sitting on the head of a gargoyle statue, swinging her legs back and forth merrily. The hood of her cloak was draped around her shoulders.

"Hey, you!" Harry called. The girl looked down, but her face was shadowed. "What are you doing here? Are you following me?"The girl slipped off the statue. "Answer me!" he shouted.

The gargoyle moved. "Well, Harry," Dumbledore said, faint amusement in his tone. "I would, but I don't know what the question was."

Harry turned red. "I was- there was a girl- never mind, sorry," he mumbled. He kept going down the hall.

Dumbledore shook his head. "You'd better be careful," he said softly.

From behind the gargoyle statue the girl nodded.

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For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	5. Dreary

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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Harry didn't know who to talk to about the ghosts. Ron would most likely think he was going batty. Hermione would fuss over him. But he didn't need that; it wouldn't help him.

"You might want to watch where you're going, Harry," a soft, dreamy voice said.

He jumped. "Luna…I didn't see you there," he said.

She cocked her head and looked up at him. "Are you worried about something?" Luna asked.

"I think I'm going mad," Harry confessed.

She smiled. "I doubt it," she said. "I've only known one person who went completely mad, and you are nothing at all like him." Luna patted his arm. "Things are just a little strange now."

Harry half-smiled. "Thanks, Luna…I guess."

"You're welcome," she said. "And now I have to run, or I'll be late." Luna slipped past him and ran down the hallway. Something fell from her wrist and landed at his feet with a soft, barely audible clink. Harry picked it up. It was a tiny silver charm bracelet, with delicate charms in the shapes of the sun, moon, and stars. He let the bracelet cling to his fingers for a few minutes, then slipped it into his pocket. He'd give it back the next time he saw her. Harry hummed quietly to himself as he headed to his next class.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was a great deal livelier this year. Emelye was young- nineteen years old, just two years older than the Hogwarts seventh years- and lively. Often she taught while standing on top of her desk, as she was during this lesson.

"Who can tell me the best defense against a p'shog?" Emelye asked. "Yes! Hermione!"

"Request to stop committing crimes," the brunette said promptly.

"Exactly! Now, I'm going to demonstr-" She paused. Her husband was standing in the back of the room, motioning at her. "Lev, what in Mab's name is wrong with you?"

Leverett Holland looked a bit strained. "Emelye…Sully has arrived," he said. "And he's being insufferable again."

"Sully!" Emelye squealed. "I'll be right back everyone; this is quite important! Hermione and Ron, I leave you two in charge." The young professor skittered out of the room.

The Gryffindor students started to talk amongst themselves, but a sudden rattle startled them into silence. "What was that?" Ron asked.

Hermione's eyes were round. "She did say she was going to demonstrate defending oneself against a p'shog…" she breathed. "Oh, goodness…"

The rattling grew louder, and Neville Longbottom grew paler. "This isn't very good…" he mumbled.

Neville proved to be completely correct, because just a moment later the p'shog burst out of the cage behind Emelye's massive desk. The creature was seventeen inches high, green and scaly. Its fangs were flecked with foam. "Flesh!" it screeched. "Blood and flesh! Flesh and blood!" Pavarti screamed as the p'shog leaped towards her.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione jumped to their feet. "What spells would work on that thing?" Ron demanded.

"We have to ask it to repent, weren't you listening?" Hermione said. She pointed her wand. Her mouth opened and closed several times, as if she was searching for the proper words. Suddenly she burst out, "SAY YOU'RE SORRY!"

All that did was elicit a snort from Ron and a shriek from the p'shog. "Flesh blood girl blood soft sweet flesh!" it snarled. Hermione fell back. The p'shog's claws were fully extended, its eyes were wide and red.

Ron grabbed Hermione and yanked her behind him. "Harry, do something!" he shouted.

Harry grabbed for his wand, but it was still on his desk, nearly fifteen feet away. "Get away from them!" he shouted foolishly at the p'shog. It turned towards him, grinning lecherously.

"Not girl not man boy flesh yes boy blood fresh young flesh young blood!" it screamed, leaping towards him.

There was nothing else he could do. Harry thrust out his hands, palms facing the p'shog, and shouted, "_Stupefy!_"

To Harry's everlasting surprise, a soft spurt of white light shot from his fingertips and sent the p'shog reeling. It was still conscious, but dazed.

"Flesh blood boy man fresh flesh blood!" it screamed. It staggered towards Harry; he stumbled back into a desk.

Suddenly he heard a girl's voice shout "You of the sprite-folk! Do you repent?" He looked wildly back to see Emelye standing in the aisle of the classroom, her sword drawn. It was beginning to glow with brilliant white light.

"Not boy girl! Girl flesh girl blood sweet delicious young girl blood!" the p'shog shrieked.

"So you have chosen for yourself." Emelye held the hilt of the sword with both hands as a rapid beam of white light shot out of the blade like a cannon. The sprite broke into a thousand pieces of green glass.

"Oh,_Emelye_," Leverett said in pure exasperation. He put his hand to his forehead and shook his head. "I don't want to say 'I told you so,' but _I told you so!_"

Emelye shoved her sword into his hands. "Here. Clean this," she ordered.

"Ew," Leverett shuddered.

Emelye sat down on the edge of her desk. "Well, that's how you get rid of a p'shog," she said, a bit shaky. "It was supposed to go a little smoother than that, but…anyway. I'm going to let you all out early today." The students started to gather up their books and belongings. "Except you. I'd like to talk to you, Harry." She waited until the room was empty except for themselves and Leverett, who was mumbling under his breath as he cleaned his little wife's sword. "Professor Dumbledore has requested that I tutor you," Emelye told Harry.

His initial relief at not being in trouble was quickly replaced by minor panic. "Tutor me?" he stuttered.

"He said that you were tutored last year in Occlumency by…by that one professor with the scary nose…"

"Snape?"

"Oh, yes, him," Emelye said. She smiled angelically at Harry. "I don't know the first thing about Occlumency, but I'm a bit of an expert at wandless magic." She took Harry's hands in hers. "I was a bit dubious about it at first, but I managed to catch a bit of your performance. You're a natural." Emelye's cool, slender fingers slid over Harry's palms, draining away the last few drops of burning heat left from the spell. "Come here tonight after dinner. There's another student I've been requested to teach, so it won't be just you, me, and that fun-sucker over there." Leverett humphed. "I'll see you later, Harry. You may go."

-----

Harry's mind raced. Wandless magic? He'd heard of it, of course, but only mentioned. Never had he met someone who could do it, not even in the Order of the Phoenix. Unfortunately, thinking of the Order made him think of something else, a someone else. He tried to think of happier things, like the charm bracelet in his pocket, but just as unfortunately this made him careless. For the second time that day he ran into someone. Once more, unfortunately, it was someone he had no desire to see.

"You better watch it, Potter!" Malfoy snarled.

Harry sighed. "Just go away, Draco," he sighed. He had bigger things to deal with.

However, Draco Malfoy was not so easily swayed. "You think you're ever so much better than me, don't you, Potty?" he sneered.

"Actually, Draco, it's not something that keeps me up nights," Harry said coolly.

"But I'm sure _other _things keep you up," Malfoy smirked. Harry froze. "About a certain _dog _named-"

"All right, Malfoy," Harry spat out, clenching his fists. "Let's fight. No wands, no magic, no nothing. Just fists. A Muggle fight."

Draco made an elaborate show of tossing his cloak and wand to his henchman. "So then, Potty," he said, spreading his arms wide. "Take the first swing. Go on. Hit me."

Harry put up his fists. He wasn't good at offense, but years of being Dudley's personal punching bag had taught him defense. Harry feinted right, and was rewarded by Malfoy's helpless flailing. He smirked.

"Not quite as good as you thought, eh, Draco?" he said.

"Keep it up, Potter," Malfoy snarled.

However, as the fight went on, it was clear that Harry had the upper hand. Until he made the mistake of looking up.

The boy was watching.

The redheaded boy, with the messy hair and glasses. He watched Harry with a mixture of pride and displeasure in his shadowed eyes. Harry opened his mouth to shout at him, but suddenly everything exploded as Draco punched him hard in the face. Blood spurted from his nose. Harry roared and slammed against Malfoy, forgetting momentarily about the boy in his effort to cream the blond ferret.

It could have been an hour or mere minutes later when Crabbe suddenly shouted that a teacher was coming. The group scattered. Goyle dragged the limp Draco along with him. Harry slumped against the wall, struggling to breathe through the stream of blood.

"Harry! Harry, what in ruddy heck do you think you were doing?" Ron demanded. He ran down the hall towards him. "McGonagall's coming; you'd better hurry!"

"Would if I could…" Harry panted. "Draco got in a few lucky shots…"

"More than a few, I'd say," Ron said. He helped Harry up, draping the dark-haired boy's arm over his shoulders. "C'mon, you'd better go lie down a bit…that nose looks bad."

"Can't go to the hospital wing," Harry said. "Teachers'd find out."

"We'll just get you up to the dorms, and then we'll think of something," Ron said. Harry made a noise in agreement, and vaguely discovered the world going black around him.

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	6. Discover

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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"So how is he, Allicot?" Albus asked through the fire.

"He was near death when we found him," Allicot said. "Worn out from illness, and the beating that no-good Muggle uncle of his gave him."

"Beating?" Albus repeated. "I wasn't aware of that. Was it serious?"

"His ribs were badly bruised and his arm was out of the socket," Allicot said, jamming her quill point against her desktop in frustration. "It's criminal the way they keep him locked up. Please, Albus, let him stay with a wizarding family. _My _family, if needs be."

"No," Dumbledore said firmly. "Harry must not know about his ties to the wizarding world."

"But how do I explain everything to him?" Allicot asked, exasperated. "The Floo powder, the potions…"

"We'll do a partial mind-wipe," Dumbledore said. "Just enough to erase those memories. He'll be able to know about the most basic of things. But we can't overload him; he's only a child and a large mind-wipe would wreak havoc on his spirit."

"You won't let me tell him about Lily either, then," Allicot whispered.

"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore said. "Nothing about Lily or James. The memories would be too difficult to erase." He sighed. "Where is Harry now?"

"Sleeping," Allicot said. "Thankfully. It's the first real sleep he's had in the three days he's been here. He's been out like a light the entire day."

However, at just that moment, the five-year-old in question was beginning to wake. _I'm not at Number Four_ was the first thought in Harry's little head. The second thought was about how much he ached. He felt sore and drained, and a little bit dizzy.

"Hello."

Harry panicked. He grabbed the soft blue blankets and hid under them. _Maybe I've been kidnapped. Maybe they're going to torture me. Maybe…_

A soft little hand patted his head. "Don't be scared," the quiet voice said. "I won't hurt you."

Harry peeped out from under the blankets, his black hair tousled. There was a small figure sitting on the edge of his bed, the features indistinguishable due to the lack of light, and Harry's lack of glasses. He rubbed his eyes. "Who are you?" he asked timidly. "I can't see you."

The tiny figure scooted closer. "I'm Celine," she said sweetly. She patted his thin cheek. "My mummy has been taking care of you."

"Celine!" Allicot scolded. She lifted her daughter off the bed with one arm. "You shouldn't wake Harry, he's very ill!"

The little girl seemed unperturbed, even though she was draped over her mother's arm. "He was already waked up, Mummy," she said.

Allicot sighed and sat down on the edge of Harry's bed. "How do you feel, pet?" she asked. She stroked her fingers across his forehead; he was still burning up.

"Sick," he said simply. The toddler shivered and snuggled deeper under the covers.

"Poor thing," Allicot crooned, smoothing his hair.

Celine patted Harry's knee. "Mummy and I will take care of you," she said.

Harry sniffled hard. _But I want _my _mummy to take care of me, not someone else's mummy_, he thought. But he was willing to take tenderness in any form, and he allowed Allicot to hold him on her lap. But secretly, Harry pretended that her name was Lily.

-----

Harry was roused from the unsettling story-dream by the soft click of the door as Ron entered. He hazily realized that he was lying on his bed, still covered in blood. His whole body ached miserably.

"All right, if you'll just take that off…"

Harry pushed himself up on his elbows. "Who're you talking to, Ron?" he mumbled.

Ron grinned. "I snuck in someone who can help you out," he said. Suddenly Luna Lovegood appeared in the room. "Hope you don't mind, I borrowed the invisibility cloak."

Luna floated towards the bed. "Harry, you look horrible," she said bluntly.

He grinned weakly. "Sorry," he said.

The girl's usually dreamy eyes were serious. "No, really, you look horrible," Luna said. She pulled a small pouch from under her robes and unrolled it, revealing a varied array of potion bottles. "Let's see…this should work…" She poured a small amount of navy-blue potion onto a soft white cloth and dabbed it against Harry's puffy lower lip. Her touch was incredibly gentle.

"I've always heard about how good Luna was in Potions, so I found her," Ron explained.

"I had a long stay in St. Mungo's when I was younger," Luna said. "I used to follow the Healers around and learned everything I could."

"How old were you during that stay?" Harry asked quietly. Luna tipped his chin up and smoothed the cloth along his cheek. "Was it some time after you were nine years old?" Luna didn't answer, but she set the cloth against his nearly broken nose. "Ow!"

"Sorry," she murmured. Her soft fingertips traced the bruised skin around his eye. Luna's touch was soothing, and Harry relaxed as he looked up at her. Luna smiled softly at him. She smoothed his black hair away from his forehead and trailed the back of her hand against his cheek.

Ron cleared his throat, and Luna drew back. "You should rest for a while, Harry," Luna said. "Some sleep would be good for you right now."

Harry nodded drowsily, and was nearly asleep by the time Ron had led the invisible Luna out of the commons. It was only then that he realized that her bracelet was still in his pocket.

_Oh, well_, he thought. _At least I'll have an excuse to see her again. _

_-----_

Harry woke up after his long nap feeling thickheaded and groggy. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. At least the throbbing in his nose had stopped; that had been even more unsettling. However, he'd slept all the way through dinner and it was time to go to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, so he forced himself to get out of bed.

He'd barely entered the Gryffindor commons when he heard a very loud "Oh,_Harry_!" and saw Hermione hurtling towards him. "Oh, Harry, Ron told me what happened, how _could _you possibly get in a Muggle fight, I'm so happy you beat up Malfoy, but you could have been _expelled _if someone caught you, you're hurt so _badly_, how could you _do _this to me?!"

"Uh…hello, Hermione," Harry said, struggling to breathe as Hermione hugged him tightly. "I'm all right…"

"No, you're not!" she burst out. Harry blinked rapidly as Hermione cupped his face in her hands. "Harry, you've looked sick since the day you arrived here. You've gotten so thin, and it's_horrible_. You don't talk, you don't smile…" The brunette looked like she was near tears. "Harry, you need to stop grieving for Sirius."

"I'm not grieving," Harry snapped.

"Yes, you are," Hermione corrected gently. "You keep blaming yourself for what happened, even though it wasn't your fault."

"It was my fault," Harry whispered. "It was my own stupid-"

"No, Harry, no!" Hermione insisted. "Don't blame yourself. Sirius-"

"Don't say his name."

"Sirius wouldn't want you to mourn like this," she continued. "He loved you, Harry, and he knew you loved him. He _wouldn't want you to mourn_."

He pushed Hermione away. "Shut up!" Harry shouted. "I don't want to hear about him! I don't! I'm just fine! Just leave me be!" He shoved her again. Ron came in just in time to see Hermione stumble against a chair.

"Harry, what in ruddy heck is going on?" he demanded. Ron helped Hermione up carefully. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing," Hermione said. "We were just talking. About Sirius."

"Stop it!" Harry roared. "I don't want to talk about it! I'm _fine_!" He ran past them, through the portrait hole, and down the hall.

_Stupid Hermione_, he thought to himself bitterly. _Sticking her nose into my business…_Harry was suddenly distracted from his thoughts by a soft sound. He looked up to see the girl. Her hood was thrown back again, and this time he caught a better look at her face. She smiled brightly at him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. He stepped closer. The girl didn't run. "Why are you following me?"

The redheaded boy appeared. He scowled at the girl and held out his hand to her. She pouted.

"What do you want from me?" Harry asked.

"Potter, what on _earth _is wrong with you?" Angelina snapped irritably from behind him.

He jumped. "The girl…over there, she was-"

"I don't see anything, Potter," Angelina said. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, sure, fine," Harry said. "I've got to talk to the professor." Angelina shook her head, but walked past, letting Harry get to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

He knocked on the office door. "Come in!" Emelye called. Harry entered. He'd seen the office many times, in all of its different decorating styles, but he quickly discovered that this room felt more like a living room than anything else. Not the stiff parlor in the Dursley home, mind you, but a homey, lived-in place. Leverett was sitting at the desk, grading papers and talking softly to his wife, who was stabbing a needle at a large quantity of dark green fabric draped over her lap.

"Oh, Harry, you're here," Emelye smiled. "We just have to wait for the other student to come, and then-"

"Am I late?" Luna Lovegood stepped into the room. Harry did a doubletake. She was dressed in a very simple blue skirt and white blouse that made her immense blue eyes seem even more vibrant. Her long hair was tied at the nape of her neck with soft ribbon.

"No, of course not," Emelye said. "This is Harry, by the way. Harry, this is-"

"Luna," he said. "We've- we've met many times."

"Oh, good, so you know each other." Emelye sat down on the edge of the desk, on top of a stack of papers. Leverett scowled and gave her a loving poke. She pulled a face and shifted long enough for him to get the papers. "So how much do you know about wandless magic?"

"It's dangerous," Luna said. Her eyes were solemn. "Wandless magic is extremely volatile, and the slightest wrong addition to the spell could…could make it backfire."

"You're right," Emelye said. "It is dangerous. That's why I'm going to teach you. I've been doing wandless magic since I was quite young. I have several natural precautions, though; I'm a quarter-elf on my mother's side. But I still had to learn." She picked up her sword. "I channel my magic through Clashclang. It acts as a focus. For instance." Emelye grasped the hilt firmly. "_Lumos._" A soft beam of light danced on the tip of the blade. "_Nox_."

"Does it always work just like that?" Harry asked.

"It depends on the wizard," she answered. "Everyone uses a different object, and sometimes none at all. You have already proven that you don't need one, Harry."

"What about me?" Luna asked.

"Well, we'll have to try a few things out," Emelye said. "I'm sure we'll able to find the right object for you. For now, though, I want you both to try the _lumos _spell using just your hands."

Harry held out his hands the way he had in the classroom. "_Lumos_," he said. But nothing happened. He looked up at Emelye.

"You have to focus your magic into your fingertips," she clarified.

Beside him Luna was holding her hands in the same position, her brow furrowed in concentration. "_Lumos_," she said softly. She jumped. "My hands are burning!" Luna looked a bit panicked.

"No, no, that happened to me too, the first time," Harry reassured her. He took her hands and rubbed them gently. "It's okay."

"He's right, it's normal," Emelye said. "Try it again, both of you. Just focus on it."

It was late by the time the lesson was finished. Harry was starting to feel dizzy. "You two have worked very hard," Emelye said, pleased.

"But we haven't gotten the spell to work properly yet," Luna protested.

"It's all right, we'll just work some more tomorrow night," Emelye said. "Now, go off to bed, you two, or you'll be falling asleep in class tomorrow. Good night."

"Luna, d'you want me to walk back with you to your dorms?" Harry offered.

"If you'd like," she said serenely. The two of them walked down the quiet hallways in companionable silence, until a soft clink in his pocket startled Harry.

"Oh, Luna, you dropped this earlier," he said. He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out the bracelet.

"You found it!" she exclaimed. "Thank you very much. I was quite sure that Ch…that someone took it during Herbology again." She held out her hand to take it back, but Harry quickly fastened it around her slim wrist. "Thank you," Luna murmured. She stopped in front of a statue of a wood nymph. "This is where my dorm is…thanks for walking me back."

He smiled. "No problem." Luna told the password to the wood nymph and stepped inside, leaving Harry alone in the ever present darkness. He put his hands in his pockets and started the long, lonely walk to the Gryffindor dorms. It was a bit cold for an October evening, and he shivered. His body was still aching from the fight, and he paused for a bit to lean against the wall.

"Ouch!"

Harry leaped nearly ten feet in the air in surprise. He whipped out his wand. "Who's there?" he demanded.

He drew back and looked squarely in the face of the ghost girl. But she didn't look like a ghost; there was no blue-gray translucency to her. She covered her mouth with her hands and her hazel-blue eyes widened in shock. Harry seized his chance. He grabbed the ghost girl by the arm. Her skin was soft and warm to his touch.

"Tell me who you are!" he demanded.

The startlingly familiar hazel eyes widened even more. "Rowan!" the girl screamed. "Rowan!"

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	7. Daring

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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"Allicot, are you sure it's safe to let 'Dora babysit during the meeting?" Remus asked.

The young woman picked up a pillow, scowled, and threw it at a couch across the room. "Of course," she said. "She's a bit buffle-brained, but Celine adores her."

"But Allicot, this is 'Dora we're talking about," Remus continued, following Allicot around the room.

"What are you saying about me?" A slim, wiry girl with extremely long dark brown hair popped into the room.

"Nothing, dear," Allicot told the eleven-year-old.

"'Dora, are you sure you'll be able to handle two children this time?" Lupin asked bluntly.

She jammed her hands on her skinny hips. "Mister Lupin, if I can handle being a first-year at Hogwarts, I can handle anything," she said. "And nobody calls me 'Dora anymore, I go by Tonks."

"I bet Andromeda is having fits over that," Allicot grinned. "Oh, but are you sure about having such long hair around two toddlers will be a good idea?"

"You're right," Tonks sighed. Her hair promptly shrank to just about chin-length.

"Hm, better."

"So where are the littles?" the preteen asked. "Is Celine excited to see me?"

"Of course. And I've told Harry all about you."

Lupin pulled Allicot aside. "Do you think…do you think it would be safe for me to see Harry?" he whispered.

"I think so," she said. "He was only a baby when he knew you. It shouldn't trigger any residual memories." Allicot smoothed out her robes. "Come on, the littles are in the playroom."

Lupin followed the two girls, his heart beginning to pound in anxiety. James and Lily's little boy. He hadn't seen him since his parents had been slaughtered. Harry had been just fifteen months old, a bright-eyed, laughing little angel child. He rarely cried, rarely fussed. He had been the light of his parents' lives.

"Tonks!" Celine squealed. The little girl raced over to her favorite babysitter and leaped into her arms. "Tonks, Tonks, I have a tooth loose!"

"Well, isn't that exciting!" Tonks said, smooching the child's round cheek. "Are you ready to have fun while the adults do boring things?"

"Yes!" Celine cheered.

Allicot kissed the top of her daughter's head. "You have to be good while mumma is busy, understand?"

"I will be," Celine promised. "Hello, Mister Lupin."

"Hello, Celine," he smiled. The little girl stretched out her arms to be held, and Remus took her in his arms. She was very trusting, he realized, perhaps too trusting. But it was a comfort to the man who could never marry and have children to hold the toddler.

"Tonks, Remus, this is Harry Potter," Allicot introduced, smiling. "It's all right, Harry, don't be shy."

Lupin set Celine down carefully as he stared at the little boy. He was dangerously thin and still weak from the illness he was trying to recover from, but it was clear who he was. Harry was a perfect petit copy of James, from his sloppy black hair to his slender, wiry build. But there was a great deal of Lily in him too. Lupin could see her in the five-year-old's delicate hands and the softly lopsided smile that turned up his lips, and as Harry looked up, he could see Lily's beautiful eyes.

"Hello, Harry," Remus willed himself to say. "I- I knew your mummy and daddy, many years ago."

Harry clutched Lily's cloak to his small chest. "You knew Mummy and Daddy?" he repeated, eyes wide. Again Lupin was reminded of the child's parents; he had James's voice with the sweetness of Lily's tone. The little boy tugged on his robe, and Lupin bent to Harry's eye level. "Was my mummy pretty?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, Harry," he answered. He touched Harry's dark hair gently. "Your mummy was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." Lily's soft smile widened on the child's face. He nestled against Lupin, his tiny feverish body pressing against the man's chest._He's so small. Oh, Merlin, he's so small. _He lifted Harry into his arms. _James. Lily. I can feel you in him. You're still alive through your little boy._

"Oh, the poor thing fell asleep," Tonks exclaimed. "He must be sick."

Lupin reluctantly handed the miniature James to her. "You'd best put him to bed," he said. Tonks cradled Harry in her arms, murmuring soft foolish comforting things into his dark hair.

Lupin stepped out into the hallway, Allicot following him. "He's just like them," he whispered.

"I know."

"Why, Allicot? Why did it have to be James and Lily?" Remus closed his eyes. "He needs them."

"I know."

"Why couldn't have been me? They could have stayed here with him." Tears were beginning to burn behind his eyelids. "Lily wanted a child so badly. They tried and tried…and finally he was born. Harry. Their angel child. That's what they used to call him. He was the whole reason they kept going. And now they're dead. They're dead, Allicot. And he's all alone."

"No," Allicot whispered. She was no longer looking at him; her eyes were focused on something far, far away. "He will never be entirely alone."

-----

Harry burst into consciousness, his green eyes snapping open. He panted hard, trying to remember what was going on and why he was lying the middle of the hallway with his head resting on someone's knees.

A gentle hand stroked his hair. "Calm down, calm down, you'll pass out again if you keep on like this." The voice was a girl's, light and sweet.

Harry bolted upright and turned his head to look straight into the face of the ghost girl. She smiled cheekily at him.

"Thistle, I told you we should have just left." This time it was a boy's voice, and the redheaded boy came to stand in front of Harry and the girl. He pushed his glasses up his nose and shook back his red hair. "Dumbledore said we weren't allowed to make contact with Harry."

"Yes, but he did say that if he caught one of us, we were allowed and…he caught me!" The girl called Thistle flashed her slightly lopsided smile at the boy. "You worry too much, Rowan."

Harry looked wildly from the hazel-eyed girl to the bespectacled boy. "Will someone just tell me what is going on?" he demanded.

"Well, after you grabbed my arm you fainted-"

"Blacked out," Harry corrected. "Boys don't faint, we black out."

"-you fainted," Thistle continued, "and even though Rowan wanted to leave you here alone, I knew that would be horrible, so-"

"But who are you?" Harry interrupted. "Why have you been following me?"

"We've been following you all your life, Harry," Rowan said simply. "This is just the first time you've been able to see us."

"Why? Why me?" he asked.

"We're family. We're allowed," Thistle said. She reached over and stroked a lock of black hair-much like her own curls- away from Harry's forehead.

"F-family?"! Harry stuttered. He jerked away from the girl. "The only family I have- if you can call them that- is the Dursleys. Everyone else is dead."

"Well, we're sort of dead," Rowan said. Harry blinked.

"Harry, you weren't supposed to be an only child," Thistle said. Her hazel eyes were serious now. "You were supposed to be the baby of the family, but…"

"Mum wanted children so badly, but she just couldn't have any…"

"Wait," Harry whispered. He looked up into Rowan's face, and saw for the first time that his eyes were a brilliant, crystalline green color. "Are you-"

"When James and Lily Potter got married, they wanted children. But they had two miscarriages," Thistle said quietly. "A boy, four years before you, and a girl two years." Rowan sat down next to Thistle and put his arm around her shoulders. Harry stared at them, seeing them clearly for the first time. Rowan had dark red hair that fell sloppily into his eyes, brushing against the frames of the glasses that shielded his bright green eyes. Thistle's long black curls fell in a wild, unruly mass down her slender back, the dark color making her fair skin and hazel eyes glow.

"Does that mean…"

"Harry, we're your brother and sister," Rowan said.

Harry stared at them, mouth agape. "You're…you're what?" he whispered.

"Oh, don't you ever listen?" Thistle smiled. She reached over and took Harry's hands in hers. He was shaking uncontrollably now, his green eyes huge. Her touch was soft, warm, and infinitely gentler than anything he had ever felt in his life. "You're our baby brother."

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I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	8. Days

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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Ron was the only one in the Gryffindor common room when Harry came back. "Where've you been?" he demanded.

"Oh, I just wandered around the halls a bit after my lessons," he said. He yawned. "I'm going to bed; I'm exhausted."

"Listen, Harry, I've got to talk to you about Hermione," Ron said, his brown eyes serious.

Harry stopped. "What's wrong with her?" he asked.

"She's been really worried about you, mate," Ron said. "We've all been. But Hermione just…she just wants you to be happy again." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "She cried, Harry. After you yelled at her. She's just so worried."

"I know," Harry said softly. "I'll talk to her tomorrow."

Ron eyed him oddly. "Y'know…you're already starting to sound more like yourself," he said thoughtfully. "Anything…happen?"

"Yeah, Ron," Harry said. "I suppose you could say that."

-----

Allicot peeked into the nursery. Tonks was sitting in the middle of the floor, Harry on her lap and Celine sprawled out beside her. She was telling them stories, and it had obviously lulled the two little ones close to sleep.

She placed a hand on the young teen's shoulder. "We're done with the meeting," she said softly. "I'll put them to bed." Tonks grinned gratefully, handed the little boy to Allicot, and left without rousing the drowsy toddlers.

Harry nestled against Allicot, his scrawny body barely weighing down her arms. She kissed the top of his head and tucked him in. "G'night, Harry," she whispered. He smiled a lopsided, sleepy little smile and cuddled into the blankets.

Celine, however, was not as complacent. "Can't I stay with Harry?" she begged. "I don't wanna be alone, Mumma!"

"Hush, he's trying to sleep," Allicot whispered. "If you're very quiet and don't kick, you can stay with him, all right? Promise to be good?"

"Cross my heart," Celine vowed. She didn't make a sound as her mother tucked her in beside Harry. Allicot turned on the nightlight and left.

The two toddlers nestled together, Celine's soft pale locks mingling with Harry's dark hair. He whimpered and turned around under the covers, caught in a wisp of a nightmare. Celine blinked hazily, waking with his movement. Tentatively she reached out with a soft, tiny hand and smoothed his hair. Before long he stilled, drooping into exhausted slumber. Celine snuggled against him, warming his icy body with hers, and they fell asleep together.

-----

"G'morning, sleepy head!"

Harry bolted upright with a panicked shriek. He grabbed his glasses with a trembling hand and shoved them on. Thistle's face came into focus as she sat at the foot of his bed and rocked with laughter. Rowan scowled and poked her.

"Thistle, you scared him," he said. "That wasn't nice."

"No, it wasn't," Harry panted, agreeing with his older brother.

"Thought it was all a dream, eh?" she said, still struggling to breathe through her laughter. "Too bad, though…it was real!"

He rubbed his forehead. "You mean you and Rowan, or the dreams I keep having?" he yawned.

"Yes," Thistle said promptly.

"Yes what?" Harry asked. He yawned again. "Never mind, I don't really want to think about it early in the morning…"

"But we have to tell you about the visions!" Thistle pestered. "You have to pay attention to us!"

Harry pulled a shirt over his head. "I have enough trouble with visions, thanks," he said dryly. "I don't need any more of them."

"But that's what we're here for," Rowan said. He sat down cross-legged on Harry's unmade bed. "Listen, Harry, we're here for one reason and one reason only- to give you three visions, visions of anything you want to see."

Harry stopped tying his tie. "Are you serious?" he said. "You mean I could see…anything?"

Thistle nodded vigorously. "In reason," she said. She batted his hands away and took hold of his tie. "Let me do that…we can't show you things like how you will defeat Voldemort, that would be too easy…but things that are important to you, things that are so important that you think your heart will burst out of your chest if you don't see them." She twisted his tie into a smooth knot, then kissed him on the cheek. "Think it over carefully, Harry. Very carefully."

-----

Harry hummed to himself as he walked down the halls. He felt better than he had in months. It was chilly in the hallways, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and kept humming- a bit tunelessly- as he walked.

"Hey, Looney, watch out!" he heard a voice call out. "Don't walk into a wall again!"

He frowned. The words sounded kind, but the tone was the nastiest he'd ever heard before. And unfortunately, it sounded familiar.

"Looney Lovegood, go stick your head in a guillotine and do everyone a favor!" the voice said, sounding even nastier than before. Harry rounded a corner and saw a very pale Luna Lovegood staring down Padma Patil, her immense blue eyes growing larger and larger by the second and her knuckles whitening as she gripped her schoolbag.

"Leave her alone," Harry said. "She's not hurting anything." Padma scowled, but left with a final shove on Luna's thin shoulder. Harry reached over and steadied her. "You all right?"

"Fine, thanks," Luna murmured.

"It seems like I've been rescuing you a lot lately," Harry smiled.

Luna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You seem happy today, Harry," she said. "I haven't seen you smile in quite a long time."

"I haven't had a reason to," he countered, picking up a scattered schoolbook and handing it to her.

"I've glad you found your reason, then," she said. She flashed him a soft, tentative smile and vanished down the corridor.

Abruptly Harry sensed two presences behind him. "Oh, he's got a reason, all right," Thistle murmured under breath. "And she's right there…"

Rowan elbowed her hard.

"Ouch! Quit it, Rowan!"

"Make me!"

"Both of you stop!" Harry hissed. "And I don't like Luna. I mean, I like her, but I don't like like-"

"You might as well give up, little brother," Rowan smirked. "We know you too well."

Harry could feel his ears turning red. "Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to go to Transfiguration before I'm late, or someone catches me talking to myself!" He stomped off down the hall.

"I think he's getting used to us," Thistle commented.

Rowan just gave his little sister a look.

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For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	9. Dangerous

This chapter was written with the help of Keeton "Moony" Anderson

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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"You ready for the Quidditch match today, Ron?" Harry asked.

"Sure, sure, fine," Ron mumbled. His face looked a bit green.

"Still not used to it, eh?"

"Uh…no." Ron forced a mouthful of breakfast down his throat. "Ginny's ten kinds of excited; she's been asked to commentate."

Harry opened his mouth to say something else, but he saw a familiar figure coming towards them, hesitant and unsure.

"Morning, Ron," Hermione said. She paused when she saw Harry.

He smiled at her. "G'morning, Hermione," he said.

Hermione's face lit up, and she slipped into the seat between the two boys.

-----

"QUIDDITCH!" Thistle hollered. Harry rolled his eyes as his sister clapped her hands gleefully. "Oh, I love Quidditch!" She had exchanged her robes and cloak for a violently purple Quidditch uniform, with a bold white 14 and a fluorescent lavender thistle bloom.

Rowan covered his eyes. "Thistle Potter, _please _dull down the wattage," he said. "We can only take so much purple."

"Amen," Harry agreed.

Thistle scowled, but the disgustingly bright violet uniform morphed into the red-and-gold of Gryffindor, identical to Harry's except for the number 14 emblazoned on it. "You men have no taste," she complained.

"So you like Quidditch?" Harry said.

Thistle did a rapid little jig step down the hall. "Naturally. I'm the daughter of James Potter, after all," she said. "If I had lived, I would have been a Chaser, starting on my second year."

"Second year?"

"You may have been the youngest Seeker, Harry, but I would have been the youngest Chaser, _and _the youngest girl player to boot," Thistle smirked.

Harry elbowed her playfully. "Get off your high horse," he said. "What about you, Rowan?"

Rowan became quite pale. "I…eh…" He cleared his throat noisily. "The game of Quidditch…"

"He doesn't do well with heights," Thistle confessed, whispering in Harry's ear. "Or speed, for that matter. Combine the two and, well…it's just not very pretty."

"Hey, Mum didn't like flying much either," Rowan retorted. The three of them blinked as they stepped towards the sunlit Quidditch pitch, joining the other Gryffindor players. "This is where we'll have to leave you, Harry. Good luck."

"Don't die," Thistle said cheerfully.

"Thanks a lot," Harry said dryly, straddling his broom.

"Did you say something, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Uh…just good luck," he said quickly.

"Thanks. I'll be needing it…" Ron said.

Harry looked to the two figures in the shadows. Rowan waved; Thistle blew him a kiss. Before he knew what he was doing, he blew one back. Harry blushed furiously, glancing around rapidly to ensure that no one saw him. Thistle, however, smiled brightly and "caught" the kiss. She touched her fingertips lightly to her lips, and Harry beamed at her as he joined the Gryffindor players on the pitch.

"Good afternoon, and welcome to the Quidditch pitch here at Hogwarts!" Ginny Weasley's voice echoed magically over the din of cheers from around the staudium. "Today's going to be a fine match, I can can tell you; gallant Gryffindor versus those clever Ravenclaws!"

There was even more cheering at that announcment, and the roars of the crowd swelled as fouteen streaks shot through the air to take their respective positions. Fred and George Weasley could be heard above the other of the crowd as they screamed and jumped up and down franitically, much to the dismay of the older couple sitting in their vicinty.

Harry expertly steered his Firebolt to its palce above the field.

"Hi, Harry."

He jumped. "Oh," he said. "Hello, Cho."

The pretty Japanese girl beamed at him. "Ready for the big game?" she inquired. He shrugged.

"Madame Hooch is on the field…she's opened the chest…yes, the bludgers and the snitch are up, and here's the quaffle!"

The pitch suddenly became blurred with flying players. Harry dodged a bludger and veered about quickly, climbing high above the stadium. It was a sunny day, and a slight breeze ruffled through his untidy hair. He closed his eyes for a moment and strained to hear Ginny's commentary.

"That was a short possession for Ravenclaw! Davies practicaly _gave _that quaffle away!"

"Miss Weasley…"

Ginny flashed a smarmy smile at MacGonagall. "Yes, Gryffindor in possession, it's Bell, Johnson, Bell, Bell gaining territory quickly now, the Keeper's up, Bell shoots- no, Bell fakes! Fakes and passes to Michaels! Michaels through the center hoop! Gryffindor scores!"

Aiden Michaels took a quick circuit of the field and the game resumed. Harry yawned slightly and scratched the back of his neck. Suddenly he felt a rush of wind. A bludger had streaked past him, missing him by mere inches.

"Harry, that was close! Are you all right?" Cho asked.

Harry veered around and nearly fell off his broom in surprise. Cho, the Ravenclaw seeker, was hovering about twenty feet to his right, obviously concerned. He gulped as she drew closer to him.

"Eh…yeah, I'm fine," Harry stammered. "But, eh…Cho, shouldn't we be kind of…paying attention to the game?"

She shrugged slightly. A roar came from the stadium below; Ravenclaw had scored. Pretending to suddenly notice something of importance, Harry zoomed down to the pitch. He glanced back. Cho was following him.

"C'mon, Cho, get your head in the game!" Davies hollered. The girl trailed by, seemingly ignorant of him. Harry noticed a couple of the Ravenclaw beaters scowling blackly in his direction. He gulped.

"The bludgers seem to be moving especially fast today! The Gryffindors are working overtime just to keep up!"

Harry thought he spotted a fleck of gold near the ground. He turned the Firebolt to go after it…

…but a sharp blow on his shoulder knocked the wind out of him and sent him spinning towards the Gryffindor goal post. He roused his wits together long enough to steer away.

"Harry! You all right?" Ron called.

"Yeah, fine, what was that?" Harry demanded.

"It looks like the Ravenclaw beaters _intentionally _whacked the bludger into the Gryffindor seeker!" Ginny hollered. "Why, if Madame Hooch had an ounce of sense, she'd get those Ravenclaws and-"

"It's easy to see where you learned commentary, Miss Weasley…"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "And there seems to be some kind of disturbance on the field! Two spectators are actually attempting to make their way onto the pitch. 'Sallright, they're being escorted back to their seats and…" Ginny sighed deeply. "That would be Fred and George Weasley. No relation to me, not at all…"

"Miss Weasley!" MacGonagall barked. "If you were paying one iota of attention you would see that Ravenclaw has scored!"

"What? Oh, yes. Ravenclaw has scored; that's twenty for them and ten for Gryffindor!" Ginny grabbed the microphone. "And what's this? Can it be? Are they for seriousness?"

" 'Seriousness', Miss Weasley?"

"IT'S THE CHELSMOLDEAN CHARGE!" Ginny squealed. "Ravenclaw has succeeded the CHELSMOLDEAN CHARGE! And…they scored as well. That's thirty for Ravenclaw, and ten for Gryffindor."

Harry scowled. Things were not going well. First a bludger to the left shoulder, Ravenclaw was ahead by twenty, there was no sign of the snitch, and Cho Chang would not stop stalking him.

"It seems I'm not the only one frustrated…Madame Hooch has called a cobbing foul on Aiden Michaels." Ginny paused; the crowd roared. "And that would be _another _ten points for Ravenclaw."

Harry pulled up higher above the stadium. Cho still calmly bobbed after him, her long hair bouncing behind her and catching the sunlight. He ducked down towards the pitch. She still followed.

"And it looks like Gryffindor has finally scored! At long last! Thank you, Katie Bell! You're my best friend forever! It's now forty to…eh…twenty."

"HARRY POTTER!" Harry jumped a full six inches off his broomstick as Angelina flew past, glaring like fury. "WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING?"

"Cho won't stop following me! I can't do anything!" he complained.

Angelina turned her glare towards Davies. "If that git doesn't get her away…" She sucked in a deep breath. "TIME OUT! TIME OUT! TIME OUT!" Madame Hooch called the time out. Angelina promptly flew to Roger Davies and proceeded to tell him off in the loudest tones imaginable.

But it still didn't have much affect. Ravenclaw scored twice. Ron was obviously panicking by now.

On the top row of the Gryffindor section, Thistle elbowed Rowan in the ribs. "It's safe to look, you big baby. They've called another time-out."

Rowan peeked through his fingers. "He's losing, isn't he?"

"Sadly, yes," Thistle sighed. "Maybe I should step in…"

"No!" Rowan shouted. "Only if it's a life-or-death situation."

Thistle pouted and mumbled under her breath.

"And Aiden Michaels has been called out of the game. Some rubbish about a bumphing foul and, well…rookie player Holly Martin has been called in." Ginny's jaw dropped. "Holly? They brought in Holly? The girl cries at the sight of a flobberworm!"

Nevertheless, the tiny girl crept into the air, her blue eyes wide and scared. Harry felt bad for her. Holly was in Care of Magical Creatures with him, and she really did cry when a flobberworm tried to swallow her hand.

"That's it, they've sent Martin in and we're doomed."

"Ginevra Weasley!"

"Well, it's true. And here's Ravenclaw with the penalty shot and, naturally, they make it." Ginny sighed.

Ravenclaw continued its rampage. They scored several more times, leaving Gryffindor in the dust. Finally, though, there was hope. Harry saw the Snitch. He dove for it, praying that Cho wouldn't follow again.

"Gryffindor's seeker is suddenly in high gear…Potter's sighted the Snitch!" Harry pushed faster and faster after the Snitch. It darted past the Ravenclaw goal. He flew towards it, careening rapidly around the goalposts, but the tip of his broom caught the post. The Firebolt lurched, sending Harry flopping uselessly like a doll into the hard pole. His head smacked against it, and he felt a trickle of blood run down his cheek. He slumped backwards, his fingers slipping from the handle of the broom.

"Harry!"

He looked up wildly, staring up into the wide-eyed face of his sister. "Grab my wrist," Thistle ordered. Harry stretched out his hand, but she jerked her fingers away. "My _wrist_, Harry! You can't touch my hand! Just my wrist!"

Still unsure, Harry gripped his sister's wrist; it felt too thin and delicate to hold him up. But with the adrenaline rush that comes when someone you love is in trouble, Thistle hoisted him onto her broom and wrapped her arm tightly around his waist as she negotiated the broomstick to the ground. Harry slumped back against his sister. She pressed her warm cheek against his cold one, the human touch comforting and reassuring. Harry's vision swam, but he distantly realized that he was touching ground. Thistle helped him off the broom- still not touching his hands- and supported him as he slumped into the cool dewy grass.

"Take this," Thistle whispered in his ear. Vaguely he felt the light metallic brush of the Snitch against his fingers, and a soft butterfly wing- or perhaps his sister's lips- stroke against his forehead, and the dim roar of a crowd in his ears. Thistle slipped away, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

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I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	10. Darkness

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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"I wanna go too!" Celine wailed. Big tears ran down her cheeks. "Mummy, Mummy, take me too!"

Allicot knelt in front of the inconsolable toddler. "Don't cry, pet. Harry and I will be back in a few hours," she soothed. "This isn't a place for little bitty girls." Celine sniffled. Her mother smoothed her cheek. "You can go play with Daddy today, all right? Just for an hour or so. Promise you'll be good?"

Celine pouted. "Okay," she said, rubbing her nose. "I'll go play with Daddy."

Allicot petted her head, then turned to the solemn-eyed Harry. "Put your cloak on, precious, we have to go," she coaxed. She tied the emerald-green cloak around the toddler and pulled the hood over his head.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"A special, secret place," Allicot said as she set Harry on her hip and reached for the vase of Floo powder. "Now, you can't tell anyone about this, all right? It's a secret."

"Secret," Harry repeated.

"Right," Allicot said. She took the silvery green Floo powder, tossed it in the fire, and stepped into the flames. Harry's small fingers dug into her shoulder as she spoke two words.

"Azkaban Prison."

The warmth of Allicot's study faded away into the thick coldness of Azkaban. She unconsciously held Harry closer to her as she approached the front desk. "Keep your hood, love, you'll stay warm," she murmured. She just didn't tell him that it would hide the telltale scar.

"Who're ye ta see?" the man barked. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his big hairy arm, smearing grime.

"Sirius Black," Allicot said, striving to keep her tone even and confident.

The man leaned forward on his elbows, squinting up into her face. She clutched Harry tighter and resisted the urge to breathe, avoiding his rotten smell. "Black, eh?" The man belched a noxious cough smelling of colcannon and rifled through the dirty parchment pages of the records book. "'E ain't had no visitors in these four years."

"It's official business," Allicot said. She held out her heather wood wand and tapped it against the palm of her hand. The emblem of a phoenix appeared, glowed a brilliant red for a moment, and vanished.

"Eh, wit' a trick like that…" The man rubbed his five-day greasy stubble. "I'll letcha in."

"And no dementors," Allicot said quickly.

"No dementors?" he repeated, peering at her. For the first time he noticed the child in her arms. "'Ere, wotcher do wit' 'im?"

"He's mine," Allicot lied desperately. "I couldn't leave him at home. Please, the dementors would only frighten him. I have the permission of the Order of Phoenix to visit the prisoner Sirius Black, alone."

"Can't leave a lady alone wit' 'im," the man snorted. "I'll hafta-"

Allicot pulled a small sack of coins out of the pocket in her cloak's inner lining. "Take this, then, in exchange for time alone with the prisoner, and no dementors."

He took the purse in his hands and weighed it. "Eh, I'll fetch 'im," he said. "Fifteen minutes, mind. No more."

"Thank you," Allicot said, relieved. She patted Harry's back, reassuring him, as the man led her down the winding passageways to the cell. Her heart beat faster. She hadn't seen Sirius in years. How much has he changed?

"Fifteen minutes," the man grunted. He unlocked the cell, ushered Allicot in, and closed it behind her.

Harry whimpered, his cheek pressed against the curve of her neck. She brushed the hem of the hood and kissed his forehead as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"Sirius?" she whispered.

A black shape in the corner shifted. Invariably she jerked back, her arms tightening around Harry. The black form lurched towards her, and suddenly it altered itself into the definable shape of a tall, thin man with dark shaggy hair.

"Who is it?" the prisoner demanded hoarsely.

Allicot pushed back her hood, her pale blonde hair spilling around her shoulders. "Sirius, it's me," she said. "Allicot, remember?"

She was suddenly caught up in a tight hug. "Little Allie," she heard him breathe. "My little darling. My beautiful little darling." His hands, rough and callused, were as gentle as a mothwing against her hair.

"Don't, Sirius, don't," she murmured, pressing her free hand against his tear-wet cheek.

Sirius stepped back as he realized she was holding a child. "Who is this?" he asked.

Allicot tipped back Harry's hood and smoothed his hair. "Your godson," she said softly. "Harry, I want you to meet someone very special. This is your godfather, Sirius. He was your daddy's best friend."

Bright green eyes meet soft slate ones. "Harry," Sirius whispered.

Harry blinked. "My daddy's dead," he stated.

"I know," Sirius said.

Suddenly Harry leaned towards him, holding out his small arms. Sirius picked him up and cradled him against his chest, stroking his fingers through the child's dark hair. The little boy wrapped his arms around his neck.

Sirius looked at Allicot, his eyes aching. "I didn't kill them, Allie, I didn't," he pleaded.

She placed a small pale hand on his arm. "I know," she said. "I've always known."

"Why can't the Order free me?" Sirius asked.

"I'm trying everything I can, but with Pettigrew-"

"He's not dead, Allie, he staged everything," he burst out. "You believe me!"

"I do, I do believe you, Sirius," she reassured. "But without Pettigrew in the flesh, no one else will." She smoothed her hand up and down his arm, the muscles and tendons jutting out in strange rhythms. "I'm looking for him. I'll have you free and clear as soon as possible."

Sirius fell silent. Harry pressed his head against his heart, listening to the comforting beats. "How have you been, Allie-love?" he asked. "I heard about the marriage your parents arranged for you."

She ducked her head. "He's a gentleman," she said. "A good man. A kind man." Allicot looked up. "But he's not you."

He stroked the curve of her cheek. "And your little one?" he whispered. "Is she a little beauty like her mother?"

"Even more so," she answered. "Healthy and strong and beautiful."

"But she'll never be as angelic as you are," Sirius said. He traced her lips lightly.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall. "Fifteen minutes!"

Allicot reached for Harry. "Come on, love, it's time to go," she said.

"No!" Harry wailed. He tightened his death grip on Sirius's neck. "I wanna stay! I wanna stay!"

Sirius kissed the sharp scar. "Go with Allie," he said. "I'll come back for you. I promise that I will come back for you."

Harry sniffled, wide-eyed. "You swear?" he hiccupped.

Sirius locked his big pinky with Harry's tiny one. "I swear," he smiled. The toddler allowed himself to be handed back into Allicot's arms. She readjusted his hood, pulling it over his forehead.

"Goodbye, Sirius," Allicot said.

He cupped her face in his hands. "One last kiss," he begged. "A last memory of you. It can keep me alive for years."

She lifted her chin and pressed her soft lips against his, kissing him softly, innocently. His gray eyes were glowing with happiness as he pulled away. "Goodbye, angelface," Sirius said with the old bravado he was famous for.

Allicot started to smile, to reply, but the door croaked open. "That's _sixteen_minutes!" the man barked. "Come on, come on."

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For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	11. Depressed

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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"How could you?"

The voice was loud, harsh, worried. Underneath the voice there was a quiet, half-frightened weeping.

"I ask you, how could you do something as stupid as that?" the angry voice shouted.

"He could have been hurt," the weeping voice whispered. "What if something happened-"

"Nothing would have happened if you hadn't been so stupid!" the male voice roared. "It's all your fault!" The other voice began to cry harder.

Harry forced his eyelids to open. "Don't cry, Thist," he croaked. "Rowan, don't make her cry."

Thistle gave a strangled little cry and flew to his side, pulling him into her arms. "Oh, Harry!" she wailed. "I was so scared!" She smoothed his hair in quick, frightened strokes, twisting her fingers through the silky hair at the nape of his neck. Harry tightened his arms around her, breathing in the soft smell of apples and lilies that clung to her. "Are you sure you're all right, love? Are you in pain?"

"Fine, Thist," he reassured. "Just a bit groggy." She pulled back from him, smiling although her brilliant hazel eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. "Why was Rowan so mad?"

Rowan sighed and ran a hand through his messy red hair. "I hadn't meant to yell," he apologized. "But they saw her."

Harry pushed himself into a sitting position. "Who? I thought I was the only one who could see you."

Thistle traced her fingers along the stitches in the comforter of Harry's bed. "People can see us if they were supposed to have a connection, a strong connection, with us if we had lived," she explained.

"Who saw you?" Harry asked.

"Albus Dumbledore. Minerva MacGonagall. Fred Weasley," Thistle recited. She didn't meet Harry's eyes.

He blinked. "Why them?"

"Well, Dumbledore simply because he's Dumbledore, and besides, he was close to Mum and Da," Rowan said. "And MacGonagall was made Thistle's godmother, even though Thist was never born."

"And Fred?" Harry prodded.

Thistle traced her finger harder along the seams. "Fred…was going to be my husband," she told him.

Harry straightened. "Your husband?" he repeated incredulously.

She sniffed and nodded. "We would be engaged by now," she said.

Harry reached over to slip his fingers around hers. "I'm sorry," he started to say, but Thistle jerked her hand back.

"You can't do that, Harry," she warned. "You can't touch our hands."

He blinked.

"That allows people to see us clearly," Rowan explained. "And what would happen after that, hm? You would just tell everyone about your miscarried brother and sister who showed up out of nowhere?"

"I can just explain you're ghosts…" Harry's voice trailed off.

"We're not ghosts, Harry," Rowan said.

Thistle poked him in the arm. He scowled. "See?" she said. "Too solid."

"Then what are you?" Harry asked.

"Betwixt-and-betweens," Thistle said.

Harry rubbed his forehead. "I'm too tired to think about this right now," he mumbled.

"Harry!" Suddenly the doors of the hospital wing were flooded with people. Thistle slipped off of the bed; she and Rowan hid in the corner.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked. "Are you hurt badly?"

"No, no, I'm okay," he said. Hermione's face was contorted with worry, but Harry noticed that Ron's arm was around her shoulders.

"It's a small head wound and a concussion," Madame Pomfrey explained. "He ought to stay here and rest for a while."

"That was a big fall you had. Impressive," George smirked. He elbowed Fred. "Wasn't it?"

"Hm?" Fred blinked. "Oh, yes. Quite impressive."

"Leave him to rest," Madame Pomfrey scolded. "He needs sleep. Go on, shoo."

Harry said his goodbyes as his friends left. Fred, though, still lingered. "Harry," he said, shifting his weight awkwardly. "Harry…did you see a girl? A beautiful girl, with black hair? She was…in the air, she was…"

Harry shot a quick glance out of the corner of his eye to where he knew his sister was standing. "No," he said quickly. "No, Fred, I…I didn't see anyone."

"Yeah, I didn't really think I saw her," he said. He tried to smile. "See ya, Harry." Harry watched him leave and shut the door of the hospital wing behind him.

"He would have been my husband," Thistle whimpered. "He would have been…"

Rowan hugged her. "Don't cry," he whispered, stroking her wild curls back. "What's done is done. We can't change anything."

Harry pushed himself up. " 'What's done is done'?" he scoffed.

"Harry, there's no way we can change anything about our lives," Thistle said, her voice soft and hoarse. She dried her eyes with the backs of her hands.

"If you're dead, Thistle, then what's it like?" Harry demanded. "Rowan, tell me what it's like, what it's like to be floating around behind the veil?"

Thistle stepped back, looking up at her older brother. Rowan kept a firm, gentle grip on her shoulder. "We're not dead, Harry," he said. "But we're not dead…because we were never alive in the first place."

Harry rolled over in bed, away from them. He felt Thistle place her hand on his cheek, but he shifted away from her. All he wanted was an explanation, some empathy, some…something.

"We can't help you, love," Thistle said. "But we can help you find someone who can."

-----

"I can't believe it!" Hermione was still wailing. "Why is he always getting injured? I mean _really_!"

Ron ducked his head. "She's been going on like this for an hour," he mumbled to Seamus. The Irish boy snickered. "Hermione, are you going to stop and eat something?"

Hermione sucked in a huge breath to continue her tirade, but let it all burst out instead. "I am a little hungry," she admitted. Ron sighed in relief and handed her the basket of rolls. "I'm just worried about Harry. Do you think he's going to be all right?"

"Hermione, he always turns out all right," Ron reassured her. "He's gone through worse accidents. He'll be fine."

Hermione paused, staring straight ahead. "I don't know about this time, Ron," she whispered.

Harry was standing at the door of the Great Hall, leaning heavily against the frame. He was incredibly pale, his face looking dead white against his black hair. For a moment he stood there, blinking, and then he lurched forward.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said. She stood up and started towards him. Ron grabbed her hand.

"He's not coming to us," Ron told her.

"Nonsense, Ron, he's-"

Harry continued his unsteady walk down the rows of tables. He avoided the Gryffindor table completely, heading to a table full of Ravenclaw blue. Harry stumbled faster and faster, until he came to the end of the table. He stopped, resting his chin on the top of a blonde head.

"Why isn't he coming to us?" Hermione said. She grabbed Ron's shoulder and dug her fingernails in.

"I don't know," Ron said. "I just don't know."

Luna turned around, her large blue eyes widening in surprise as she saw him. She turned around, holding out her arms. Harry tumbled against her, collapsing with his head on her lap. His shoulders trembled. Luna bent her golden head over his dark one. No one seemed to notice the two of them, and they didn't notice anyone around them. Luna smoothed his rebellious hair; his arms were tight around her waist.

After a while, Luna tilted Harry's chin up with her delicate fingers, speaking softly as her pale blue eyes met his green ones. He nodded, and she helped him to his feet. They walked out together, her arms around his waist and his head on her shoulder.

"Why didn't he come to us?" Hermione repeated.

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For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	12. Developed

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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She knew it was going to come. She just didn't expect for it to happen so quickly.

The face appeared in her fire with a blast of light. "ALLICOT-"

"Don't get started with me, Albus, please," she pleaded.

"Don't 'don't get started with me, Albus,' me, Allicot," Dumbledore snorted. "Do you have any idea of the ramifications of what could have happened?"

Allicot sighed heavily. "Sirius didn't do anything," she said. "I know he didn't. If we could only find-"

"I want to believe it too, Allicot, but in order for the Ministry of Magic to look into it, we need more facts and more proof," Dumbledore said. "And that's only the tip of the iceberg. Children don't belong anywhere near Azkaban, especially not children as young as Harry."

"I wanted him to meet his godfather, just once," Allicot said. "Even when he's eleven and in Hogwarts, no one will allow him to meet Sirius, or even tell Harry about him. Albus, it's the closest he'll ever come to having his real parents back."

"I see your point," Dumbledore said.

Allicot leaned forward on her knees so she come closer to the face in the fire. "Please, Albus. Let me tell Harry about his parents. Just a few stories about James and Lily."

"Is that wise? You might-"

"You don't understand!" Allicot exclaimed. "Every night he watches me tuck Celine in and kiss her goodnight with the most terrible longing in his eyes. He needs to learn about his parents. He'll have his memory erased anyways. This can give him hope for now. Just for now."

There was a long pause. The flames and the embers popped around Dumbledore's firelit face. "All right," he finally conceded. "You may tell him about James and Lily."

Allicot beamed. "Thank you!" she said.

"No more trips to Azkaban," he warned.

"No more," she promised. Dumbledore smiled, and vanished from the fire. Allicot turned back to her writing. She wrote in peaceful stillness for a while, until she heard the soft padded thumps of small socked feet on the carpet. She set the quill pen down.

"Celine?" she called. "Celine, is that you?"

A little head peeped around the door. "I had a bad dream, Miss Allie," Harry sniffled.

"Oh, poor thing," Allicot said, holding out her arms. "Come here, pet." Harry climbed into her lap and snuggled against her shoulder. She touched his forehead. "You feel warm. I think your fever's coming back. Let's get you something cold to drink."

Harry's temperature had skyrocketed up to a hundred degrees. Allicot conjured apple juice into a sipper cup and handed it to him. "You'll be better soon, darling," she murmured.

He sniffled hard. "I want my mumma," he whimpered. Allicot smoothed his hair. "Did my mumma want me?"

Allicot closed her eyes, remembering. The visits to Saint Mungo's. The visits to the Muggle hospitals in London. Lily lying in bed weak and pale and thin except for the faint lump where the baby was. Lily sobbing with pain as James tried to comfort her. Lily with empty arms and aching eyes as she endured her miscarriages.

And finally, the tiny, beautiful, living child.

"Yes, pet," Allicot murmured. "Yes, your mumma wanted you very, very much." She settled into a big armchair, tucking a blanket around Harry. "Do you want to know about your mumma and da?"

Harry nodded. And Allicot told him everything.

-----

"Harry, don't cry."

There was something wet on his face. A light hand brushed his cheek. "Harry, it's all right," she whispered in his ear.

Harry blinked hazily as he remembered. They left the great hall, and they talked. They talked for a long time: about a childhood without a mother, about saying goodbye to someone close, about everything. He'd been able to talk at people about how he felt, but he could talk with Luna. She understood. She understood because she had been there.

"Where…where are we?" he murmured.

"I believe we found the Room of Requirement," Luna said softly. She smoothed his hair away from his forehead gently.

Harry realized he was lying on a large, soft couch. Luna was curled up next to him, her arms around him protectively. "I think we missed Divination," he mumbled. "Where are my glasses?"

Luna placed her slim hands over his. "Just a little longer," she said. She stroked his hot, tear-stained cheek; her soft blue eyes studied his face.

"Looking for something?" Harry asked.

"I'm memorizing you," she said simply. She traced her delicate fingertips against his skin.

"Why? Are you taking a test later, or…"

"It's just in case," Luna said. "I never memorized my mother's face…and sometimes, when I lie awake…I forget. I forget what she looked like."

Harry reached for her, cupping her face in his hands. Her skin was incredibly soft. "I don't want to forget you," he whispered. He caressed her fair skin, brushed his fingertip against her eyelashes, breathed in the sweet lavender smell of her silky locks. Luna touched his temples, tangling her fingers in his thick black hair. Harry drew her closer. Her eyes closed until her eyelashes tickled his.

And then he captured her lips in a soft kiss.

Luna's kiss was shy but sweet. Harry felt a thrill run through him as he kissed her. She was warm and gentle and relaxed in his arms. He pulled away from her gently, as if she was as fragile as spun glass. She smiled at him angelically.

"Well," she said sweetly. "I think I might have to memorize you some more."

-----

"You look happy," Rowan commented. Harry only grinned as he pulled his pajama shirt over his head.

Thistle snuck up behind him and tickled his ribs. "Tell us, Harry! Tell us!" she squealed.

He batted his sister's hands away. "Not going to," he countered.

Thistle pouted and plunked down on her brother's bed. "I wish you would," she scowled. "We big sisters need to know everything about their baby brothers."

Harry lay down next to her. "Well, there's one thing that…that I do want to know," he ventured.

Rowan perched on the headboard. "Try us," he said, adjusting his glasses.

"I want to use one of my visions," Harry said. "I want to see what life would be like if you were alive. If Mum and Dad were alive." Thistle brushed his hair back and kissed his cheek.

"You're sure?" Rowan asked softly. "That'll leave you with just two left."

"I know, I know," he said. He twined Thistle's black curls around his fingers. "I'm ready for it. Lay it on me."

Thistle bent over Harry and placed her left hand against his temple. Rowan placed his hand on his right temple. And then it went black.

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For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	13. Delightful

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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Harry woke up when the sky was still dark. For a moment he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering why he woke up so early. Then with a start he remembered. He was going to Hogwarts that day.

He slipped out of bed and made his way downstairs. His mum was in the kitchen, humming to herself as she made breakfast. She turned around as soon as she heard him approach. "Good morning, love," Lily smiled, turning to her youngest child. Harry's chin trembled. This was how every morning started off. He would get up early and come downstairs to talk to his mum. But she wouldn't be at Hogwarts.

Lily saw the change in his small face. "What's wrong, darling?" she asked, holding out her arms. Harry hurtled into her embrace and burst into tears. "It's all right, pet," Lily murmured, smoothing his rebellious hair. "It's all right." Harry sobbed into his mother's shoulder as she rubbed his thin back and whispered soft, comforting words in his ear. When he had begun to calm down, Lily sat down on the kitchen chair with her tiny son on her lap. "Are you nervous about going away to school?" she whispered. Harry nodded, tightening his grip around her neck.

"I don't want to leave you, Mum," he said, his voice muffled.

"Oh, baby, you'll be fine," Lily reassured him. She kissed him softly on the cheek. "But if you do need me, I'll come right away. I promise." Harry nodded his head and hiccupped. Lily brushed the tears away from his pale cheeks.

"What's wrong, Lils?" a sleepy voice asked. James leaned against the doorway. "Are you all right, Harry?"

"He's a bit nervous," Lily explained as she kissed her son's forehead.

"Oh, there's nothing to be nervous about, Harry," James said, ruffling his hair. "There's just a giant willow tree that could possibly kill you, and a rampaging poltergeist, and several very large spiders in the Forbidden Forest, but other than that, you'll be fine."

"James Potter!" Lily scolded, smacking her husband on the arm. "Look at your child!"

James looked down at his white-faced son. "Oh, Merlin, Harry…" he groaned. "I was only joking." He lifted the small eleven-year-old up. "I was only kidding, I promise, kiddo."

Lily kissed the back of Harry's head, and then her husband's cheek. "I'll go wake Rowan and Thistle," she said. "No doubt Thistle is still fast asleep."

"Yeah, I just checked on her. Didn't have the heart to wake her though; she looked exhausted," James said.

"Oh, she's most likely fooling," Lily said, sounding angry but smiling fondly as she thought of her thirteen-year-old daughter. She headed up the stairs.

"So, Harry," James said. "Tell me what's going on in that head of yours, kiddo."

Harry wrapped his arms around his father's neck. "I want to go to Hogwarts, really, I do, I just…I don't want to leave you and Mum." He sighed. "I've been having the dreams again, Da. The ones where you and Mum get killed when I'm little, and I don't have Thistle or Rowan, and I'm all alone, and-" A big tear rolled down his cheek. "I don't mean to be a baby about it, Da."

"I know, I know," James soothed. "You're not a baby. Your visions can be scary, but Harry, you'll be safe at Hogwarts. Safer, even." He tugged gently on his youngest son's ear. "Now, how about you get some breakfast?"

"Breakfast?" a sleepy voice yawned. "Breakfast for me?" Harry's sister bumped her way down the stairs and into the kitchen, rubbing her drowsy blue-hazel eyes. Thistle's long black curls hung down her back in a wild mass that would be horrible to brush smooth.

"Are you awake yet, Thist?" James inquired dryly.

"I'll have a scone please," Thistle mumbled, plunking down on a chair and laying her head on the table.

Harry tugged on his sister's curls. "Wake up, Thist," he said sweetly. He held out his hand to his father, and James handed him the ice cube. Harry slipped it down the collar of Thistle's nightdress. It took a moment.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Thistle squealed, leaping up. "OH I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU! COME BACK HERE!" She chased her little brother around the kitchen, finally cornering him under the table. "YOU WILL PAY, HARRY! I WILL MAKE YOU PAY!"

James reached under the table and hoisted Harry onto his lap. "Aha, Thist, he's at base," he teased. "Can't get him."

"What are you making him pay for this time, Thistle?" Rowan asked. He was already dressed and his dark red hair was damp from his shower. "Did he put honey in your hair again?"

"No, this time it was the ice cube down my back," Thistle groused.

"Well, cheer up, Thist, at least this time I won't have to cut out parts of your hair this time," Lily said, stroking the offending curls affectionately. "Sit down and eat your breakfast. We'll have to hurry to get to the station in time."

"And today ickle Harrykins is coming to Hogwarts!" Thistle beamed, giving Harry a loving kiss.

"Don't do that when we get to the trains, Thist," Harry warned.

"Hm, I do recall a vow for revenge…" James said. "It might work, Thistle."

"Stop teasing Harry and eat your breakfast!" Lily said. "I doubt a certain young lady bothered to pack last night."

"Well, I packed some," Thistle mumbled around a bite of scone.

It turned out to be a lot less than "some." Lily was not pleased, but a few handy spells sent the possessions flying into their proper trunks. Within forty-five minutes the Potter family was ready to go.

"Are you sure you have everything?" Lily asked for the twentieth time. "Thistle, did you get your-"

"Yes, Mum, the Quidditch robes were the first to be packed," Thistle sighed. She twisted around trying to tie a ribbon in her unruly curls. Her father batted her hands away and tied a neat bow in his daughter's hair.

"And Rowan, you have the-"

"My prefect's badge is already pinned on," Rowan reassured her.

"And Harry, you have-"

"Yes, Mum, we have everything!" Harry exclaimed. "Can't we go _now_?!"

"But what about-"

"Lily, they're fine. Let's go before we miss the train," James said. "Everyone grab hold of the Portkey."

Before long the entire family was at Platform 9 ¾. Crowds were milling about, with other families putting their children onto the train. Harry reached for his mother's hand; Lily gave him a smile and a comforting squeeze.

"Lily! Lily Potter!" Molly Weasley called, beaming. "I was wondering where you'd be!"

"Hello, Molly!" Lily smiled. "You're sending off all but Ginny today, aren't you?"

"Yes, and you're sending your youngest," Molly said. "It'll be quite empty in our houses today."

Thistle jumped up and waved, her black curls flying. "Gred and Forge!" she hollered.

"Oi! Pistle Thotter!" they shouted back. Both twins grabbed her up at the same time. "We've got lots more of products for you to test!"

"Oh, no, you don't," Molly said. "Don't torture that poor little girl any more than you already have. Last year, with that Chameleo Caramel…"

"Don't worry, Mum, we've worked out all the bugs," George said, Thistle perched on his back with her arms around his neck. Molly still glared at him.

Ron popped up from behind his mother. "Mum, have you seen- Harry!" he said. "Good to see you, mate!"

"Hi, Ron," Harry said. He let go of Lily's hand. "Have the twins really fixed those caramels?"

Ron looked uneasy. "I wouldn't touch 'em," he said. "Even if they might be okay, I still don't want to eat 'em. Thistle looked real funny what with her hair blending in with everything…"

James laughed at that, but he stopped when Lily touched his arm. "What is it, Lily-love?" he asked.

"See that little girl?" she said quietly. "I think she's Muggle-born. Doesn't have a clue of where to go."

James kissed the side of his wife's head. "Go and talk to her, then," he said. "I'll keep an eye on things here."

Lily walked over to the girl. She was standing very straight, with a look of vague interest at her surroundings but a rather lost look in her eyes. "Hello," Lily said. "Are you a first-year?"

"Yes," the girl said, a bit warily.

"So is my son," Lily said. "He has two older siblings who are both in Hogwarts. Would you like to meet them?"

"I suppose," the girl said. She was smiling faintly when Lily led her over to her family.

"Harry, Thistle, Rowan, this is…oh, I never asked your name, did I?"

"Hermione Granger," the girl said, her natural confidence beginning to surface. "I'm a first year at Hogwarts."

"So'm I," Harry said, smiling at her. "This is Ron. He's a first year too." Ron mumbled a hello.

The train whistled. "You should be getting on!" Molly said. She smiled at Hermione. "It was nice to meet you, dear." She kissed Percy, the twins, and Ron. "Mind yourselves."

"We will, Mum," Ron mumbled, his ears turning red at being kissed by his mother in front of a girl.

"And if we aren't, Percy will make sure we will!" Fred said cheerfully. Percy scowled at him.

"Hurry up, Pistle Thotter," George said. "We'll save you a seat."

Lily turned to her children. "It's time, I suppose," she said. She and James kissed Rowan and Thistle, and then she turned to Harry. "Will you be all right, pet?" He nodded and flung his arms around his mother. James and Lily both hugged their youngest child.

"I love you, Mum and Da," Harry whispered.

Lily kissed his cheek. "We love you too, darling," she whispered back. She straightened and looked at her two oldest children. "Make sure you take care of Harry for me, mind," she said.

"We will, Mum," Thistle said softly. She put her arm around Harry's shoulder.

"He'll be safe with us," Rowan reassured her.

Lily smiled, even though tears were shining in her green eyes. James put an arm around her waist. The whistle blew again. "Hurry and get on," James said. "Good luck, you three."

Rowan stepped up into the car and helped his younger sister and brother up. "Goodbye!" he called, waving to his parents. Thistle and Harry waved as well, and watched as Lily and James became small spots in the distance.

Rowan turned to them. "I'll be. in the prefect's car," he said. "Thistle, I assume you'll be with the twins. But make sure Harry's all right before you go in search of them." He ruffled his younger brother's hair. "And if Thistle ignores you, you can come join me. Although I don't think Percy will be very pleasant on this trip; all he can talk about is a prefect's responsibilities…" He rolled his eyes. "Anyway, Thist, be sure to keep an eye on Harry."

Thistle saluted. "Right-o, Captain Potter," she said. She grabbed Harry's hand and tugged him off through the line of train cars. "Oh, there's Ron and…and….and the girl with the name I simply cannot remember," she said. "Fetch me if you need me, but now I simply must be off." She leaned close and whispered in his ear, "Fred and George have come up with a brand new prank candy involving butterscotch and feathers. I'm so excited!" She kissed the top of Harry's ear, gave him a loving push into the train car, and skipped down the hall.

"Thistle's calmed down a bit this year, hasn't she?" Ron commented.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Calmed down?" she repeated.

"Oh yeah, tons," Harry said. "She's practically moving in slow motion now."

The train ride went on and on, until finally they arrived at Hogwarts. The three first-years stepped off into the dark night, gazing in open-mouthed astonishment at the lake and the castle rising behind it. Harry felt a double-prick of excitement and nervousness pierce through him. He stopped to stare at the massive view. Then he realized that Ron and Hermione had moved further into the dark crowd without him. The nervous, panicky feeling increased.

A familiar quicksilver figure dashed through the crowd, wild curls flying. "Harry, there you are!" Thistle said. She grabbed his hand and pulled him against her. "You have to go with Hagrid." She tugged him along, following the bellowing cry of "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

"Hello, Hagrid!" Thistle called, grinning up at the huge man. "I've brought my little brother!"

Hagrid beamed. "Harry Potter! Last time I saw you, you was no bigger than me boot!"

"Yes, well, now he comes up to your knee!" Thistle said. "Make sure he doesn't fall in the lake."

"That hasn't happened before," Harry scoffed.

"Well, you can be the first!" Thistle said cheerily. "Good luck, Harry! I'll see you at the sorting!" She spun on her foot and dashed off through the crowd to catch up with the Weasley twins.

"She's much calmer than she was last year," Hagrid said.

"Tell me about it," Harry said.

The boat ride to the lake was eerily hushed. Some of the first years talked quietly, others just kept their frightened eyes fixed on the castle. Harry studied the castle. It was going to be his home for the next seven years. Seven years. He'd only been alive for eleven.

The little boats dredged up to the shore and rocked idly as they were fastened to the docks. "Come on, firs' years," Hagrid boomed.

"Harry," Ron ventured. "You nervous? About the sorting, I mean."

Harry shrugged. "A little, I suppose," he said. "I just hope I get Gryffindor. Everyone in the Potter family's been a Gryffindor. And Mum was one too."

"Welcome to Hogwarts." The tall figure could have been imposing to the first years, but not to Harry. He just waved at her. After all, Minerva MacGonagall was his sister's godmother. Professor MacGonagall graced him with a small smile before continuing. "You will be taken into the Great Hall, where you will have the Sorting Hat placed on your head. When it decides, take a seat with your house."

Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly wishing his last name was earlier in the alphabet. The line of first years shrank gradually as they made their way into the hall.

"Look, Hermione's a Gryffindor," Ron whispered. "I hope we get it too…" Harry nodded. Finally, at long last, his name was called.

"Harry Potter!"

Ron gave him a light punch on the shoulder. Harry tried to grin as he stepped in the hall. He was faced with several hundred faces watching him; he tried to find his brother and sister but there were too many. MacGonagall handed him the hat. It covered his eyes, shoving him into the darkness.

"Hm…you're a Potter, definitely," the Sorting Hat said. "Not as serious as your brother…but not as flighty as your sister. Something in between. But, no matter. Gryffindor!"

"I KNEW IT!" Harry tugged the hat off to see his brother and sister leaping up from the Gryffindor table. He grinned at them. Thistle had obviously eaten some of the prank candy; a pair of small soft wings stuck straight out from her robes.

"We knew you'd be a Gryffindor, Harry, congratulations!" Rowan beamed.

"Of course he's a Gryffindor!" Thistle chortled.

"Thist, your wings tickle," Harry objected. He plunked down on the bench between his siblings. His initial nervousness had dissipated. He hadn't let down the Potter name. He was a Gryffindor.

"Look, Pistle! Ron's a Gryffindor too!" George said. "No shame for our families this time around. We'll just wait for Ginny. She'll probably end up a Hufflepuff or something."

"Finally, the Sorting's over. Time for food!" Rowan grinned. The plates began to fill up.

"Bloody he-"

"Not when a lady's around," Fred said, elbowing Ron.

"I've never seen so much food before!" Harry said.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Rowan said around a mouthful of chicken pie. "Now eat!" Harry obeyed, eagerly helping himself to his favorites.

The meal stretched on as the half-stared students shoveled food in their mouths. "I'm so full!" Thistle moaned, leaning against Fred with her hands on her stomach. "While Carrot-top over there is still stuffing his face…"

"I'm just hungry!" Rowan objected, swallowing. "Harry, you going to finish that?"

"Hey!" Harry protested, poking his brother in the arm with his fork.

"Ouch!"

"I wasn't done."

"As I can see now…"

"Where do we go from here?" Ron asked.

"The dorms," Thistle said. "If our resident prefect stops eating his own weight in treacle tart!"

Rowan wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Percy shot him a disapproving glance. "All right, all right," he said. "Let's give the ickle firsties a tour."

Harry got up and followed the rest of the group. It was hard to keep track of which group of black robes was Gryffindor, but he could see his sister's little wings flapping about. He trailed behind Ron and Hermione. Hermione was filling Ron's ears with information about the castle. Harry rolled his eyes; he got enough of that from his mum and Rowan. He stopped to study one of the moving paintings. One minute he was looking at the shifting figure of the girl on the swing, and the next he was looking up to an empty hallway.

He stopped and looked around. "I came from that direction…" he murmured. "So…they went either this way….or that way…or maybe this way…"

"Lost?"

Harry jumped about five feet in the air in surprise. "Uh, uh, uh…" he stammered. He was staring straight up into the face of Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts. "Yes, sir."

"Harry? Harry James!" Rowan grabbed his little brother by the arm. "There you are! You shouldn't have run off like that, Harry."

"Rowan Potter, good to see you in Hogwarts once more," Dumbledore said.

"Yes sir, good to see you too," Rowan said.

"How are your parents? Lily is still keeping that trickster in line, isn't she?" Dumbledore said.

Rowan laughed. "True enough."

"And your sister is still the little hellion?" Dumbledore smiled. "Never mind, never mind. I'm sure she's growing into a sweet lady like your mother."

"Yes, she is," Rowan said. He placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. "And this is my brother, Harry."

"Ah, the youngest Potter." Dumbledore folded his hands behind his back. "Sirius Black is your godfather, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"Ah, and he won't be seeing his child off till next year, will he?" Dumbledore nodded to himself, answering his own question. "You're the child troubled by dreams, aren't you?"

Harry studied the ground. "Yes, sir," he mumbled.

Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder. "There's no need to worry about that," he said gently. "And now, you ought to go off to bed. It's quite late. Goodnight, Masters Potter."

"Goodnight, Professor Dumbledore," Rowan said.

"G'night, Professor," Harry chorused.

Rowan steered his little brother down the hallway. "Come on, come on," he said. "The Gryffindor tower is this way." He stopped in front of a painting of a fat pink lady.

"Oh, what a darling!" the Pink Lady cooed. "Is this your brother? What a cutie!" Harry rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath.

"Yes, yes, this is my brother Harry," Rowan said. "_Pillywiggin_." The portrait swung open. "That's the Gryffindor entrance. Never tell anyone the password, all right?" He stepped into the common room. "Welcome to the Gryffindor tower, Harry."

The room was warm and cozy, a welcome change after the gray stone and cold air of the castle. "Go bother Thistle for a while, all right?"

Fred and George were playing a game of wizard's chess. Thistle was perched on the arm of Fred's chair. Most of the soft white feathers had fallen away. Thistle bubbled into a bright laugh, and Harry suddenly felt a pang of homesickness shoot through him. His sister's laugh was so much like his mother's, and his mother was miles and miles away.

Thistle looked up, her silvery-blue eyes taking in his clouded face in a swift glance. Without pausing in her stream of chatter, she drew Harry to her side. He leaned his head against her shoulder, his face hidden in her wild tumble of black curls. Absently he twined a ringlet around his finger, breathing in the familiar sweet smell of her shampoo. Thistle never stopped her steady banter with the twins, but she continued to stroke his narrow back.

"I win; I got your queen!" George said triumphantly.

"Not quite," Fred grinned, kissing Thistle lightly.

"Eh, none of that," Rowan said. "Don't you know not to kiss the baby sister when the brother's in the room?" He parted the two of them. "It's curfew. Off to bed."

Thistle hugged Harry tightly. "Are you going to be all right, pet?" she asked.

"I think so," he whispered.

"Come fetch me if you need me, darling," Thistle said. "On my first night, I was in such a state that they had to summon Rowan!" She pressed several kisses on his cheeks, forehead, and ears. "Sweet dreams, Harry."

"Night, Thist," he said. She gave him a last, loving pinch on the cheek, then disappeared up the girl's staircase.

"Your room's this way, Harry," Rowan said. "I'm just down the hall if you need me." Harry nodded as he reached for his pajamas. His roommates were already asleep; Ron was snoring with his mouth wide open. "Classes start the day after tomorrow, so be ready. You'll need to leave a little early because it's easy to get turned around inside the castle." Harry yawned as he climbed into the big bed. Rowan smiled. "Glasses, kiddo, glasses." Harry set the wire frames on the bedside table; his fifteen-year-old brother tucked him into bed. Rowan's green eyes were gentle. He kissed his little brother's forehead. "G'night, Harry."

"G'night, Row," he yawned, burrowing under the covers. Harry was fast asleep before Rowan had even drawn the curtains.

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	14. Devoted

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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Thistle pressed her cheek against her brother's. Harry slept deeply, his soft breaths warm against her cheek. "I think he liked this dream," she whispered.

"I think so too," Rowan said. He placed his hand on his sister's back, between her narrow shoulderblades. "But remember, Thist…we can't get too attached."

"Too late," Thistle said. Her curls draped over her face and tickled Harry's nose; he drowsily batted the ringlets away.

"Thistle, we can't stay with him. We'll have to go back." Rowan rubbed her shoulders.

"Why couldn't we live?" she whispered. "I want to be with him."

"I know, but we-" Rowan stiffened. "Someone's coming." He grabbed his sister and pulled her up; the two of them hid behind a curtain.

"Is he all right?" Hermione whispered. She sat down on the edge of Harry's bed. "Oh, he fell asleep with his glasses on." She looked up at Ron. "Are you sure he's all right?"

Ron sighed. "He was asleep long before I got in here," he said. "Come on, Hermione. Girls aren't supposed to be in the guy dorms."

Hermione took Harry's glasses off and set them on the bedside table. "Ron, he looks sick," she murmured. "Why won't he tell us what's wrong?"

"I don't know, Hermione," Ron said.

"Why did he go to that girl?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know."

"Why didn't he come to us?"

"I don't know, Hermione, let's go." The brunette allowed Ron to tug her away.

"They don't like Luna much, do they?" Rowan mused.

Thistle shrugged. "Too bad," she said. "They'll have to get used to it. After all, by next year they'll-"

Rowan covered her mouth. "We can't tell them the future," he warned. Thistle pouted. "And it might not come true anyways, that's why we're here. Remember?"

-----

He was unexpectedly happy when he woke up the next morning. His dreams had been bittersweet, but more than worth it. The images of his parents was clearly memorized in his head, but there was something more than that. There was only one word that could possibly describe his feelings.

Beloved.

He was loved. He was cared for. He was cherished. Even if his dream was false, and in the real world the only love he received died fifteen years ago, he had that sense to cling to.

And better yet, that sense was being revived.

Harry was, for the first time in his life, excited to go Double Divination. He got there fairly early- only one other student was in the room. She was sitting alone at a table in the back, idly fingercombing her long hair. He could remember the feel of her hair in his hands, silky and light like a unicorn tail. She looked up when he entered the room, but didn't say anything. There were unspoken questions in her eyes.

"G'morning," he said.

A little smile turned up Luna's lips. "Morning, Harry," she said.

"Hey, scoot over," he said, setting his books on the table. She did so, moving her copy of the Quibbler over to make room. "Enjoying your read?"

"Hm?" she said. "Oh. Oh, yes. Daddy's writings are always interesting."

"Tell me about it," Harry coaxed. He tugged the newspaper towards them and pointed to the cover story. "What's a gorrex?"

Luna smiled and began to explain the article to him. Harry slipped his arm around her slender shoulders, listening attentively. He listened partially to her words, but he paid the most attention to her voice. She spoke softly, sweetly, with gentle inflections and a light accent on the r's. He was so deeply drawn into the pull of her voice that he didn't notice the classroom door open.

"Potter? And Lovegood?" the Ravenclaw gasped. Her ponytailed friend snickered.

Luna abruptly clammed up. She drew away from Harry, pulling the Quibbler in front of her face until only the top of her head poked out. He glanced back at the Ravenclaws. They had been joined by three Gryffindors, who were chattering just as fast as the Ravenclaws. Harry narrowed his eyes at them. Resolutely he reached over and pulled the Quibbler out of Luna's hands, setting it back on the table. She blinked. He tucked his arm around her shoulders again. It wasn't gushingly affectionate, it wasn't overly possessive, it was just a gentle, reaffirming touch.

He felt the tenseness in Luna's back dissipate. She relaxed, allowing his fingers to curl around her shoulder. The murmur of their classmates increased. Harry ignored them.

"Ah, it is time for class to begin," Trelawney said, gliding into the round room with a fluttering of multi-colored scarves. The other students stopped staring and took their seats, leaving Harry and Luna in peace.

-----

The rumors about Potter and Looney spread like a new Wizarding Wheezes product. Even Snape smirked at Harry when he went into Potions later in the day. No one could believe that Harry Potter would pair himself up with a girl like Luna Lovegood.

Especially Hermione.

"He didn't even tell us he was fond of her!" she snapped as she stormed down the hallway.

"He didn't really have to tell us, Hermione," Ron pointed out.

"He didn't say a word! Harry _never _talks to us anymore! He just talks to…to _her_."

"They're not even officially going steady," Ron said.

"It'll be all the easier to break them up then!" she roared.

"Hermione-"

"Don't tell me you haven't thought of it either, Ronald." Ron squirmed a little bit. "She doesn't know anything about Harry." Hermione crossed her arms and huffed. "I'd like to give her a piece of my mind."

"Well, here's your chance, Hermione, because here she comes," Ron said.

Hermione intercepted Luna as she walked down the empty hall. Luna looked up. "Hello, Hermione," she said meekly.

"What are your intentions with Harry?" Hermione demanded. "Are you just trying to get some fame for yourself? Are you trying to take advantage of him?"

Luna looked up, her soft blue eyes mild and her face expressionless. This only served to infuriate Hermione more. "You don't know Harry like we do! We've been with him for the past five years, and all of a sudden you appear!" The pale face was still frozen in its same benign, dreamy expression. Hermione grabbed the blonde girl by the shoulders. "Why did he want you to comfort him? Why did he go to you?"

The pale eyes became as sharp and clear as blue diamonds. Luna spoke in a voice brighter and colder than they had ever heard before. "Have you ever seen a dead body?" she demanded. "Do you know what it's like to watch the life leave someone's eyes? To press your lips against cold skin and know that your clothes are getting stained with someone else's blood?"

Hermione stepped back a little bit, edging towards Ron. "N-no," she stammered.

Luna's eyes blazed, her face pale and her lips white. "Then you will never, ever be able to comfort him like I can," she said. "Because I have."

Hermione compressed her lips together. Luna's eyes were still fiery. Hermione stared at her, and then slapped her across the face.

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I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	15. Dim

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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"Oh, I never had a whale to kill, a bottle bottle bottle baby," Thistle sang under her breath. "Doo-da-lally, doo-da-lally-day…" She wandered along the empty castle hallways. The students were in class, and she was bored. Rowan was content to sit around, but she was restless. Thistle continued her little nonsense song. "Hats off, boots off, belt off, buckle…hats off, boots off, belt off, buckle. Oh, I never had-"

"Albus, you don't need to tell him."

Thistle ducked quickly behind a statue. It wouldn't do to have her godmother discover her.

"It's too much to force upon him. He's still so young," Professor MacGonagall pleaded.

"You needn't raise your voice, Minerva," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Oh, no one's around to hear us, Albus, the students are all in classes," MacGonagall said.

"Except for one," Dumbledore said. "I believe you should come out here, Miss Potter."

"Miss Potter?" Minerva stuttered. "Miss Potter? Why, who could…?"

Thistle stepped out shyly from behind the statue. "I'm sorry, Professor," she mumbled.

"Do you see anything, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked.

"I see…a shape, like a girl…but it's hazy," MacGonagall stammered. "What is-"

"I'm afraid I can't see much clearer than that either, Professor, only Harry can. But nevertheless, Minerva, this is your goddaughter."

MacGonagall would have dropped her books had she been carrying any. "I haven't a goddaughter, Albus, just the Potter's…" Her voice trailed off. "Oh. Oh, my."

"I'm the Potter's girl," Thistle said. "I'm Thistle."

Minerva pressed her hands together. "Thistle. Yes. Oh, my," she murmured. "Thistle Ellen, wasn't it? Thistle Ellen Potter. Oh, my."

"Hello, Aunt Min," Thistle said softly. "Thank for taking care of my little brother. My parents are happy that you've looked after them."

"Your parents," Minerva whispered. "How-"

"Rowan and I visit them," Thistle said. "We're betwixt-and-betweens ourselves, we can't stay behind the veil all the time, but we do visit."

"Rowan? Oh, you mean…the first baby. Remus's godson." MacGongall looked like she was about to cry. "And all this time…"

"There was nothing that could have been done," Thistle said. "We've just been looking out for Harry, all this time."

-----

"You're doing splendidly!" Emelye said, clapping her hands. "Both of you. I'm so proud." She beamed in delight.

Harry flexed his sore fingers. "I don't really feel like I'm doing better," he confessed.

"Oh, but you are," Emelye reassured him. "You too, Luna. Both of you have made such progress."

Luna looked at her sideways over her shoulder. "I can barely doanything," she said.

Emelye plunked down on a chair, sitting backwards with her arms resting along the chair's back. "That's excellent," she repeated. "Becoming proficient at wandless magic is quite difficult. Most people can do little bits of it, but you two are already doing second-year spells without wands. It's quite encouraging for a teacher." She got up and pushed the chair under the desk. "Besides, Dumbledore wants you to be able to use wandless magic for the times you cannot have a wand. Say you've dropped it, or an enemy has taken it away." Her eyes grew solemn. "Now, you will never be weaponless."

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I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit for more.


	16. Dizzy

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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"Are you quite sure?" Luna said skeptically.

"Yes, for the hundredth time," Harry said. He dragged Luna by her elbows.

"You want to take me _out,_" Luna repeated. "_Out _out."

"Yes," Harry sighed. "If you don't hurry we're going to miss the rest of the group."

Luna allowed him to lug her away, choosing instead to dreamily stare off into space. "Imagine," she said. "Me, going to Hogsmeade with a boy…" She let Harry tug her off to follow everyone else.

Luna was lost in her own world and didn't notice the stares. Harry did. He didn't know why. She wore an apple-green dress with a cream colored cardigan- perfectly normal clothes, if you ignored her mismatched yellow and lavender knee socks. Still, she was pretty. He didn't know why people were staring.

He also didn't know why Ron and Hermione were avoiding him.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Luna asked. "You have such a funny expression on your face."

"I'm fine," he said. "I just don't know why Ron and Hermione are avoiding me." Luna ducked her head. "Do you know something?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "No," she said. "Nothing at all. Maybe it's an aqueous dormouse. They have strange effects on people."

"All right," Harry said. "I don't know what an aqueous dormouse is, but all right." A Hufflepuff girl gaped at the two of them, covered her mouth with her hand, and hurried past. Harry frowned and took a tighter hold of Luna's hand.

"Hey, Harry!" He looked over his shoulder to see Ginny running towards him. "Harry, can I talk to you for a second?"

"I guess," he said.

Ginny caught up, looked at the two of them, and panted to catch her breath. "Alone?"

"I guess," Luna said. "I'll just go look at books." She wiggled her fingers in a little wave and wandered away.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" Harry asked.

"I'll get right to the point," she said. "Listen, Hermione's pissed."

"At what?"

"You. Something about neglected your real friends," Ginny said. "I just thought I would warn you. She spent all last night going back and forth between crying and throwing books at the wall. Not a pretty picture, let me tell you."

Harry blinked. "I still don't understand," he said.

Ginny glanced over her shoulder. "They're coming up behind us," she said. "Hermione's going to be even more pissed that I'm talking to you. Just keep out of her way, and congrats about the new girlfriend." She melded into the crowd and darted into the candy store.

Harry turned his back abruptly towards Ron and Hermione and headed towards the bookstore, but a hand grabbed him and drew him sharply back. "What's going on that head of yours, Harry Potter?" Hermione demanded.

"I don't know, what's going on in yours, Hermione Granger?" Harry said. "I don't quite know what's going on."

"It's that floozy girlfriend of yours," Ron said.

"Floozy?" Harry repeated. "Luna?"

"You didn't even tell us you were dating her," Hermione said. "You didn't even tell us you were fond of her!"

"Well, it kind of happened suddenly…"

"Exactly!" Hermione said. "All of a sudden you're dating her and going to_her _for comfort, and she's just crazy. She can't help you with anything, Harry, that's why you have us."

"What are you talking about, Hermione?" Harry said, his eyes narrowing.

Hermione rubbed her elbows. "I saw you," she said. "When you went into the great hall, and you were clearly upset, and you went to _her_instead of us. Why, Harry?"

"Because she understands," Harry said quietly. "Look, Hermione, you and Ron have always been there for me, and I've always been there for you too, but there are some things that you can never understand."

"But I can try!" Hermione begged. "Harry-"

"You don't know what it's like," he said. "You can't…you can't understand completely, no matter how much you want to, unless you've been where we've been."

"She doesn't know what it's like either!" Ron said. "That girl is crazy! Completely bonkers! Harry-"

But Harry had turned on his heel and stalked away in the direction of the book shop. The inside was warm and smelled like old parchment and mulberries. He wound around the crooked shelves and piles of tomes, searching. Harry found her in an soft velvet armchair, shoes lying on the floor and her legs tucked up underneath her. Luna looked up and smiled at him. "You'll never guess what I found, it's-"

The book was closed. Luna opened her arms. Harry fell against her, his head falling into the curve of her neck and shoulder. Her arms twined around him, holding him close to her body. Luna's pale hands played through his dark hair, and they sat together for a long time.

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	17. Disconcerting

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.

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Harry struggled to wake up. "Warmth that is not fire, dreams that don't exist." The words were mumbled, hazy. Harry rubbed his eyes, struggling to get his bearings. He was snug in his bed, Celine curled up beside him. Suddenly she began to toss and turn. Her eyes opened wide. "Warmth that is not fire, dreams that don't exist." Celine's wide eyes turned to him, staring blankly: a corpse's eyes. Harry screamed, backing away from her in terror.

The door flew open. "Harry, darling, what's wrong?" Allicot gasped. "Are you all…Celine!"

The little girl bolted upright. "Warmth that is not fire, dreams that don't exist!" she screamed.

Allicot stood up and pointed her wand towards the door. "_Accio _bear," she called, and from Celine's nursery floated a large, ordinary looking stuffed bear. Allicot clutched it in her hands and thrust it into Celine's arms. "There, darling, there, my baby," she cooed, stroking her small hysterical daughter's long hair. "There we are. Sh, it's all right."

Celine mechanically buried her face into the bear, still talking loudly, but the words coming out muffled and garbled. Harry scooted away towards the edge of the bed, panting. Allicot smoothed Celine's hair and stroking her back, making soft comforting noises. "It's all right, Celine," she soothed. "Sh, don't scare Harry."

Celine jerked up and fixed her blank wild eyes on Harry. "Harry!" she cried in a high shrill voice. She pointed to him. "Lost and alone, last child left! Two will appear to him, and-"

"Celine, Celine, sh!" Allicot coaxed. She cuddled her small daughter closely and held her closer to the teddy bear. The loud muffled voice continued. "It's all right, my baby. It's all right." Celine slumped back, head tilting. "Enchanted branch of the family tree, never again come back to me," she mumbled hoarsely, and fell into Allicot's arms.

Allicot lifted her daughter. "I'll be right back, Harry," she said softly. "I'll just go put her to bed."

Harry sat still, clutching his blankets to his chin. After about ten minutes, Allicot tiptoed back into his room. "Are you all right, darling?" she asked. Harry burst into tears. "Oh, oh, my poor darling, don't cry." She gathered him into her arms and rocked him back and forth. "I know it's scary." She pressed her cheek against his dark silky hair. "I know. I know."

Harry rubbed his eyes. "What's wrong with Celine?" he hiccupped.

"Celine is…is a very special little girl," Allicot said. "She has…she has a gift for…for prophecies."

"Prophecies?" Harry said. "What's that?"

"Celine says things that are going to happen in the future," Allicot said, tangling her fingers in his hair. She tried to smile. "I give her the bear to tell everything to. The bear has a spell on him, see, and he records all of the things that Celine says." She kissed Harry's temple. "Do you understand?" Harry nodded. She kissed him again, this time on both cheeks. "Now go to sleep, darling. And have sweet dreams."

He nestled into the soft bed, and Allicot drew the covers over him. "Good night, Harry."

-----

Harry jolted awake. He sat up, dizzy and disoriented. He was in his room at Hogwarts, safe in his own bed. His roommates slept soundly; Neville was even snoring lightly. Harry rubbed his forehead. "A prophecy," he murmured. "Another prophecy…about me."

He looked into the darkness of the room. "I need to find it."

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For more information about this story, visit the website link in my author profile.

I am currently publishing an original novel. Please visit fictionpress(DOT)com/celizabethnicholas for more.


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